


Dangerous Liaisons

by scribeofmorpheus



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Defenders (Marvel TV), The Punisher (TV 2017)
Genre: Addiction, Alcohol, AnVil, Angst, Developing Relationship, Dysfunctional Family, F/M, Gen, Light Bondage, Military themes, Minor Character Death, Minor Violence, NSFW, New York, New York Bulletin, Other, Pre-Season 1, Rand Ent., Sex, Smut, Spying, The Hand, The Punisher, Themes of war, Violence, War against Drugs, attorney at law, bad habits, dominant Billy, dominant OFC, lies and intrigue, subtrifuge
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-02
Updated: 2019-08-07
Packaged: 2019-11-08 05:15:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 24,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17975147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scribeofmorpheus/pseuds/scribeofmorpheus
Summary: After the Reader loses her brother to the battlefields of war, she returns home for the first time since leaving the States to bury him. When she discovers her brother’s body was used as a drug mule for the notorious Blacksmith, the Reader decideds to make it her mission to expose his drug operations and crucify anyone who was part of the drug running ring. Which leads her straight into the path of one Billy Russo!





	1. Novice Duplicity

**Author's Note:**

> This series is still ONGOING! If you want to keep up to date with the latest chapters I'm more active on my Tumblr. [**Masterlist**](https://scribeofmorpheus.tumblr.com/post/185640896300/scribesmasterlist)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **A/N:** So this has been in my drafts for a few weeks. My other fics took priority and I completely forgot about it, I was also afraid it might be too serious in tone to open with. Of all my current fics, this one is definitely the most mature themed ~~and the most sinful~~.  
>  **Words:** 3517  
>  **Warnings:** Mature Language, Unstable family dynamic, mentions of death, Eventual NSFW (not in this chapter though).  
> 

(Gif not mine)

You sat by the far end of the cocktail bar. All your father's prestigious guests drowned out by the string quartet you had personally booked for the evening.  


The large chandelier gave the room a relaxed, yet slightly intimidating ambience, it hung high and glimmered brightly like some classist mantelpiece, meant to appease those of a similar standing and intimidate those of a lower class.  


The entire evening had been an exhausting recital of eloquently spoken words and half-hearted compliments, drowning yourself in your third martini didn't seem to alleviate the stress.

You let out a sigh as your finger languidly played with the brim of your glass. Ever so often bringing that same finger to your mouth when it was coated in an ample amount of salt.

"Careful, if you manage to look anymore disheartened you may need someone to save you from drowning in that glass." A husky voice emanated from beside you. It had that familiar tone of confidence you'd heard from many of the men your father worked with, except where most sounded entitled, his had a hint of cockiness to it.

"And are you offering to be ever the gallant hero and save me from such a depressing fate?" You kept your eyes on your drink, grabbing an olive and popping it in your mouth.

"No. I'd probably join you. This kind of crowd can be a little--"

"Pretentious?" You interrupted him. Eyes still on your drink.

"I was going to go with, suffocating." His voice was hauntingly smooth, it reminded you of a smooth glass of bourbon. Full bodied, strong, with just a hint of honey and a hell of a smoky aftertaste. In short, it was intoxicating. Keeping your composure may be harder than you anticipated.

You looked in his direction, extended your hand and met the dark, mysterious eyes of the man you'd been waiting all night for.  


His breath-taking features living up to every expectation from all the whispers that were associated with it. His lips curved in the most seductive smirk you'd ever seen.  


Fuck!  


Despite being obviously unarmed and dressed in a flattering tailored suit, you could tell this man was nothing short of a bad habit waiting to be picked up.

"Y/N"

He took your hand and brought it to his lips. His painfully tempting lips.

"Billy, Billy Russo. A Pleasure."

"The pleasure is all mine," Your voice came off a little sultrier than you had intended. Damn, shitty alcohol tolerance.

 _Bait, meet hook_.

***

**Several Months Earlier**

Coming back home had been more painful than you'd ever imagined it would be. Your father had driven you away with his demanding presence and controlling ego after he had pulled a few not-so-legal strings to get you transferred from your post in Juarez. He had never tried to hide his disdain for your job as a military prosecutor. In some ways, he saw it as a betrayal. After all, yours was a family business rooted in the military.

"Military is our family and our business is a family business," he would always say whenever pitching one of his military defence contracts to his lavish guests he'd serenade with expensive booze, Cuban cigars and the feeling of exclusivity as they earned an invitation to one of his famous parties.

It's the same line he used on you when he found out you had been building a case against one of your superior officers stationed at Fort Bliss while investigating a rumour about mishandling of drugs.  


The same line he used again when you called him in a furious rage about getting your case dismissed before you even brought it forward and being handed a transfer slip to a much more docile base in the ass-end of nowhere.

In his own, fucked up way, he thought he was protecting you, but to you, all you saw was a man protecting his reputation as a veteran, family man and savvy businessman.  


It drove you so mad you gave up your military career to spite him and used your expensive law degree to work in a large office of one of the Rand Enterprise overseas branches in Hong Kong.

Officially you were a dignified lawyer, unofficially you were slowly suffocating in meaningless paperwork and a job that made you feel like a glorified fight club mediator where the opponents fought with words instead of fists and K.O's were determined with legal compromises and buyouts instead of being knocked unconscious on a sparing mat. And despite how much you loathed your dead-end job and pencil skirts, you hated giving your father the satisfaction of being right about the military being your family business.

But none of that mattered when you got the news about your younger brother. You took the first flight home, and in place of your brother you were greeted by a 6-foot wooden box.  


During the funeral, his commanding officer had used words like 'Honourable', 'Brave' and 'Sacrifice'. As though throwing those words at you while you stood by his grave, painfully aware of his absence, would magically make things better.  


Add to that the insult of being offered a velvet box with a cheap medal in substitute for his presence made you want to scream from rage. But ever the image of composure, you bit your tongue so hard it bled to keep from telling everyone to fuck off and leave you to grieve in peace. Instead, you held your mother steady and stared daggers at the stupid velvet box she clutched so tight her knuckles turned pale and caressed her hair as her tears soaked through your long-sleeved dress.  


Your father was his cold, expressionless self. A silent spectator in black, like a ghost. Afterwards, the two of you had exchanged spiteful words. Yours came out shrill and croaked, the effect of the tears you could no longer hold at bay.  


Your fathers had been stoic, firm and distant.

~

_"You’re the reason Henry left, it's your fault he's… d-dead."_

_Your words were harsh, meant to hurt, yet when you finished laying blame you realised it still felt foreign, the fact Henry was gone. He would never make another cup of weak coffee for you, and you would never be able to tease him about it. It caused a sickening feeling to burrow deep in your stomach, it felt like an invisible wound was forming. You feared it would never heal._

_Your father sat in his large leather office chair, whiskey in hand, ailed with the deadest eyes you'd ever seen on a person. They were glued to the heart-wrenching family photograph on his desk. It was all fake smiles and polished appearances. It was another cheap medal, one he could place on display for prying eyes. You wanted to throw that fucking photograph into the fire, you'd throw that little velvet box too if your mother hadn't fallen asleep clutching it in a death grip against her chest._

_He didn't bother to look your way, knowing he would simply fuel the fire inside you further. He simply took a swig of the brown liquid, emptying the glass of its contents._

_"Your brother left because he was a patriot." Your father’s voice fell flat._

_"Bullshit!" Your voice thundered at the audacity of your father using the same empty word that was uttered at your brother’s funeral, "He left because that was the only way he thought he could earn your affection."_

_You waited for your father to bite back, to run to his own defence. He didn't._

_"You neglected him. Always pointing out your differences in disappointment, making him wish he was like you. Even when you were proud of him, you never gave him the validation he sought. He left to try and live up to your legacy. He left because he thought it would make you happy."_

_You had no energy left in you to shout anymore. To be honest, you could hardly recognise your own voice, it was almost as though someone else had taken over your voice and the words that travelled with it. Except the voice was still your own. It felt like someone had opened a spill-way and all the repressed emotions you had harboured over the years finally flowed free._

_You sniffled, whipping away the tears that refused to stop, "I had the unfortunate side benefit of inheriting mums face, and because of that you always treated me like some innocent flower you had to protect from the world. And you got so good at it too, you didn't realise when **protect** had changed to **control** until you drove me away. And now... now, you've driven Henry away too. Only this time, the prodigal son is NEVER coming back."  
_

_With that, you turned and walked out of your father’s office, clutching your arms as though you were shielding yourself from the cold. You heard the sound of glass shattering as you ascended the stairs of the mansion you never once considered home._

~

The memory has etched itself into your brain.  


On good days you thought you had told him what he needed to hear. What you needed to get off your chest. On bad days you reprimanded yourself for being so harsh.  


The next day you had every intention of getting back on a plane and returning to the life you forged out of spite, however, your mother had convinced you to stay. She had seemed so weak and fragile, like a cracked vase that could be demolished by a single gust of wind.  


You knew your leaving was that gust of wind and your staying was the glue she needed to keep intact, so you stayed. And when weeks turned to months you decided to pull a few expensive favours to trade in your old position at Rand Enterprises in China for Rand Enterprises in New York.

Working for the Meachum's was like trying to navigate a minefield while blindfolded, although you were almost certain your chances of surviving that particular impossible task would be far easier than having to deal with Ward Meachum's sleazy attempts at flirting. The guy was about as smooth as tar -which was to say, not smooth at all.

Things seemed to get easier as you slowly built a routine and constantly avoided having to deal with the problems that awaited you at home. One day you had decided to avoid going home altogether by renting an apartment in the city. Close enough to your mother to keep her from constantly worrying and far enough from your father to keep you from his sphere of influence. Fate, on the other hand, had something different planned for you.

Like all the New Yorkers at the time, you had found yourself drawn to events surrounding the sudden emergence of Hells Kitchen's newest menace: The Punisher. The civilian in you saw what the media wanted you to see: the violence, the ruthless justice being served, the mayhem.  


The former military prosecutor in you began to see a pattern forming in The Punisher's seemingly unconnected works. The gangs he targeted were specific, known for dealing in drugs and weaponry. They were rivals too, so on the outside, the Punisher's unfortunate origins had seemed just that: unfortunate. But one piece of information caught your interest. The fact a notorious drug dealer known as Blacksmith was involved.

Before your father had pulled what was to be your most ambitious case in your short-lived military prosecutor career, you had been investigating rumours of a new player emerging in the drug circuit in Juarez. His name was none other than Blacksmith.

Using your smarts and connections, you managed to discretely trace a pattern of drug shipments that coincided with army shipments to bases where heroin had surfaced in bulk in surrounding areas. When you had discovered that those military shipments were actually KIA's being returned home you were horrified. Worse yet, you discovered Henry's name was on one of the manifests of a cargo plane you previously suspected of being used in this smuggling scheme.

Telling no one out of distrust, you secretly ordered Henry's grave dug up and his body tested for any narcotic substances. The results came back positive and you were beyond infuriated. Not only had your brother’s life been cut short because of your father's inability to portray emotion, now his memory and the memory of others had been sullied by someone they risked their lives to protect. That was the moment your mission began.

Everything relied on you getting the chance to talk to someone implicated in the Blacksmith's scheme. You couldn't risk going to any government agencies because there was no way something this well organised didn't have someone in a high position of power overseeing it.

Frank Castle was your best lead since he was the only member of a covert unit that was at the brunt of everything -something you had uncovered by watching his trial on the news after Colonel Schoonover recounted the events leading to his loss of limb and Frank's heroics.

When Castle had been arrested, you had hoped you would get the chance to speak to him in jail, perhaps appeal to his moral compass to help you root out others involved, but you never got to him in time. Too much red tape and not enough powerplays left in your arsenal delayed you too much. The next thing you knew Frank Castle was dead and so was his superior officer, Ray Schoonover. Yet, this provided you with another lead. If Frank went after Ray, that meant he was somehow connected to the Castle family's massacre which was also tied to Blacksmith.

After months of pulling redacted files and dealing with a former hacktivist white-hat hacker you had blackmailed who worked in the IT department of Rand Enterprises, you managed to track down the names of one some soldiers that were under Schoonover's command and had served around the same time as Frank Castle's last tour. They're names were Gunner Henderson (who had gone off the grid), Morty Bennett (who was a high ranking military official you couldn't risk confronting) and lastly, Billy Russo, CEO of Anvil Security and the perfect candidate.

You needed to find out what he knew. So you orchestrated an event for your father's company and added him to the guest list under the guise of being scouted as a possible business partner, all while maintaining your job at Rand Enterprises to keep you from suspicion.

***

"So, Mr Russo." You drew out saying his name, "What brings you to this party?"

"Billy, please, Mr Russo sounds too formal," He waved down the bartender and ordered a glass of whiskey neat for himself and another drink for you. "I'm here on business."

"Oh?" You pretended to be surprised. "And what kind of business does a man dressed like you-" you pointed at his sharply tailored suit, "-deal in?" You took a sip of your martini.

"Private contracts mostly." He looked at you through hooded eyes as he took a sip of his own drink.

You had seen photos of him before tonight, he was handsome no doubt about it, even a blind person could tell, but his eyes were much more captivating up-close. They made your skin feel like it was on fire, there was a darkness to them that went deeper than colour, and it was almost frightening yet thrilling all at once.

"So, mercenaries?"

"I prefer the term 'Private Security', sounds less self-serving," he gave you a deep chuckle, "But I don't want to talk about myself. Why is someone as breath-taking as you sitting at a bar all alone?"

He was good, but you had prepared yourself for this possibility, with a face like that you'd be a fool to expect him to be harmless or without charm. And yet, you couldn't keep your cheeks from looking flushed or your mind from constructing inappropriate thoughts.

You raked your eyes over what you assumed was a muscular figure hidden beneath his impeccably tailored dark suit. He noticed your action and subtly licked his lips, as though he were a predator preparing to devour his prey. You were considering letting him.

"Perhaps, I was simply waiting for the right man to come to my rescue, Mr Russo." You refused to call him by his first name, an act of rebellion. An act he saw as an opening.

He leaned in close enough that you could smell the scent of whiskey on his breath, further fuelling the desire building inside you.

"Am I that man, Y/N?" His breath was warm against your cheek, making you forget for the briefest moment why you had brought him here.

You knew Billy was the kind of man who enjoyed the chase. He liked a woman who guaranteed a challenge. You decided to use that to your advantage.

"The night is young," You replied cheekily. His gaze wavered and for a moment you saw his confidence wane in the slightest.

"But... there is promise." You added to give him hope and keep him hooked.

***

You and Billy talked for hours. You were under no impressions that Billy hadn't chosen to talk to you, out of a sea of gorgeous women, because you caught his eye. You knew he had profiled you, he was probably using you to get to your father. Even though that revelation dampened your spirits a little, you reassured yourself that you too were using him. He just didn't know it yet.

The two of you drew a few heads in your direction. You chalked it up to Billy's eye-catching beauty. There were moments when you caught yourself wondering if he was real. The two of you together made quite the picture. You in your royal blue dress that hugged all your curves yet was modest enough to leave much to the imagination and Billy who looked sharp enough to cut through bone in his three-piece suit.

Your father took notice of his interest in you, and yours in him, but was too preoccupied with more important business partners. You silently praised whatever gods had favoured you tonight, you knew your father would question Billy, taking his concentration off you. More importantly, you couldn't risk Billy finding out you had added his name to the guest list and not your father.

Billy was also exceptionally good at revealing next to nothing about himself, it was like trying to draw blood from stone. It frustrated you, and not just mentally. Before you knew it, you were already at the bottom of your fifth martini. The buzz from the alcohol turned your body feverish with heat, but it also gave you liquid courage.

"Do you know what I don't understand, Mr Russo?" You trailed your tongue over your lips as his eyes bore holes into you.

"How many times do I have to tell you to call me Billy?"

"Until I stop," you batted your eyelashes at him, defying him yet again, he seemed to enjoy it. "Why is it that out of everyone in this room -a room filled with some rather important people I might add- are you spending your time talking to me?" You cocked your head to the side causing a loose curl to fall out of place.

Billy inched closer to you and caressed your jaw as he tucked the stray curl behind your eye. It was a gentle touch, one you found yourself struggling not to lean into. You tried your best to keep composed and unaffected by his touch.

"Maybe I was the one in need of saving. Lord knows I can't stand these things-" He made a circling motion with his index finger as he looked up at the chandelier hovering above, "Maybe when I saw you sitting at the bar instead of chatting up some suit, I saw someone above all this bullshit power play stuff, I saw someone who was worth talking to."

Your eyes went wide. His words had sounded so earnest you actually wanted to believe them. In what came as a surprise to you, your lips had crashed violently into his own. He jerked back slightly in surprise, but soon he was kissing you back with such hunger, such fervour, you almost moaned into his touch. His lips were soft against yours, his mouth tasting of whiskey.

When he broke the kiss, you had to place a hand on your chest and concentrate to keep your breath steady and stop the world from spinning.

"I guess you are the man I've been waiting for after all."

His lips curled into a devilish smile, his pupils dilated, "Then let me rescue you away from this place." He stood up, buttoned his suit jacket and held out his hand for you.

You knew what would happen as soon as you took his hand. At that moment, you didn't care. You clasped his hand firmly as he led you out of the room towards the two large doors that lead outside.


	2. Tangled in his Sheets

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **A/N:** Pffft! So this was difficult for me to write if I’m being 100% honest. My first official attempt at writing smut (which others will read that is). So... I don’t know how I feel about this chapter, but anyway! _If NSFW isn’t your thing you can skip this part, you won't miss any main plot points._  
>  **Words:** 2526  
>  **Warnings:** **NSFW** (like 80% of this is smut), Mature Language

(Gif is not mine)  


  


Billy was all tongue and teeth as he drowned you in sensual kisses. The two of you had barely been able to keep your hands to yourself from the moment you left the party, but now that the two of you were away from prying eyes and alone in his apartment, the hunger for each other seemed only to intensify.

Billy's muscular body pressed into yours as he pinned you to the kitchen wall ravishing your neck and jaw with his skilled mouth while you tried desperately not to turn into a moaning mess.  


You hadn't meant for this to happen, hadn't meant to be whisked away to Billy Russo's apartment for a one night stand, but here you were breathing heavy and letting out soft pleasurable moans that seemed to spur him on. You blamed it on the alcohol and the fact you had been sexually frustrated for months, but you knew that was a lie. Something about Billy drew you to him, it was like a dark seduction. Being with him enticed you, thrilled you, and you didn't know why.  


Billy trailed soft kisses from your shoulder to that sweet spot behind your ear making you gasp. Billy chuckled a low guttural chuckle that vibrated throughout your body. His hands explored all across your body until they found your exposed thigh and hitched it around his waist, his grip was firm but brought no discomfort, if anything, it fuelled the embers of the growing fire within you into a roaring flame. He positioned your body so you could be made aware of the bulge pressed against your thigh.

"Oh, God!" You whimpered against him, gripping his broad shoulders to anchor yourself.

Drawing away, Billy looked deep into your lust filled eyes, the same emotion covering his own dark orbs in a haze of desire, "God, you're so fucking beautiful," he breathed. You practically inhaled his intoxicating scent of whiskey and expensive cologne.  


Tangling your fingers in his hair, you pulled his head closer to you, "Shut up and kiss me, Russo." Your words were commanding and Billy, ever the dominant alpha male rose a brow in amusement at your words.

Billy placed his lips close to your ear, his breath tickling your inner ear making you shiver, "I told you to call me Billy."

"And I will… Eventually," you teased him, taking delight in defying him.

In quick hasty motions, Billy hoisted you off the ground and carried you to his bedroom, you snickered when you heard your dress rip in protest of being mishandled, "I guess I'll just have to try harder until you give in."

***

His touch was incendiary, leaving trails of heat in the wake of his wondering hands -his rough, calloused hands- as he stripped you of your dress and undergarments.  


You weren't going to play the submissive, so you in kind made quick work of Billy's clothing. Though, where Billy was rushed and impatient, you had taken your time teasing his clothes off his eager body. It was driving him crazy and you were enjoying every moment of it.

When both of you were finally bare and naked, you sunk into the bed and called Billy after you with a suggestive 'come hither' finger, Billy licked his lips, eyes burning with the intensity of a predator, and positioned himself atop of you.  


The two of you locked in another kiss and his tongue swirled around yours, coaxing further moans from you. Your nails scrapped across his back, making him bite back grunts of his own. His fingers began to re-explore your body again. First, he palmed your breasts with one hand while the other secured his position. His thumb drew circles around your already hard nipples, raising the tingle between your legs to an aching need.  


You ghosted your fingers against his well-formed muscles until you reached the base of his back and pulled him further in, his engorged cock sliding across you already moist core in the process. Your back arched in anticipation and you felt Billy tense for a second before inhaling deeply, both of you sounding out moans in anticipation of what was to come.

Billy's hand began to gravitate further south until you grabbed his arm and he looked at you with a furrowed brow in confusion.

"Fuck foreplay, I need you. Now!"

The urgency in your voice caused a wolfish grin to spawn over Billy's face, "Happy to oblige," his voice was dark and husky.

Wrapping his hands around your wrists, Billy guided your arms above your head and held them there with one hand while the other spread your legs beneath him. Billy looked down at your beautiful body splayed under him, "I'm going to make you cry out my name."  


"What are you waiting for, Russo?"

He entered you slowly feeling yourself stretch to accommodate his size, it was torturous and amazing all at once. You weren't a virgin, but you may as well have been. When he had filled you completely his demeanour changed from tender to fierce. You straddled him, crossing your legs around his firm ass and soon he started pumping in and out of you in a fast pace.  


Both of your breathing was ragged and erratic and both of you steeled your grip on one another to keep from losing yourselves to the building tide of pleasure that threatened to sweep the both of you away.

He pumped into you full and hard, taking one of your nipples into his mouth, milking you of your lilted moans.

"Fuck!" Your eyes rolled to the back of your head, "B- Billy!" That was the first time you had said his name and he stilled inside you for a moment before pulling out at the same slow pace he had first entered you with.

"Don't, don't you dare stop!" And then he entered you again, your body quacking beneath him. You were close to your release and from the way his thrusts began to sputter and become erratic, so was he.

"Y/N, you're so tight."

The clenching and unclenching of your inner muscles strained Billy as he tried to maintain his pace and not give in to your touch.  


"Billy, I'm close," acknowledging your plea, Billy mustered up his remaining energy and began driving into you even harder and faster than before. Your toes began to curl, your back arched and you held on for dear life as the earth-shattering climax fogged over your mind and ripped through your body. Your chest heaving rapidly from exhaustion. Billy followed suit not too long after, the spasm of euphoria taking over him as he released into the condom.

***

You awoke in the middle of the night, temporarily forgetting you weren't in your own bed. When you felt a strong arm draped over your body, the memories of your promiscuous activities with Billy Russo came pouring back to you and you realised where you were.

You lounged under his warm covers for a few minutes before you finally accepted you weren't going to fall back asleep any time soon. You slinked out from under his arm, careful not to wake him.  


Looking down at your dress you decided against walking around in what was now a torn blue cloak at this point, so instead, you borrowed Billy's shirt and put on your panties before leaving his room to make your way towards the kitchen.

After a bit of nosing about, you found the cupboard with the drinking glasses and grabbed one to fill with water. The kitchen was dark and the lack of lighting gave you an opportunity to clear your mind and think. And then an idea dawned over you. You snuck to your purse, which you had dropped on the floor next to the entrance, and pulled out your phone. You pressed the second number on your speed dial and waited impatiently for the line to pick up.

"Hello?" A groggy voice answered.

"Cecil, are you awake?"

"Now I am," the young man protested. "What is it?"

"I need a favour. Remember that data sniffer you configured for me?"

"Yeah."

"Well, an opportunity to use it arose and I need you to talk me through how to use it on a personal computer. Can you do that?"

Cecil sighed and then cleared his throat, "For the person who is currently using leverage to blackmail me into being her own personal hacker, _and_ has the power to send me away to prison for a very long time? Yeah, I can do it."  


He seemed insulted at your insinuation he wouldn't be able to do something as menial as help you set up a sniffer device, but right now you had no time to trade banter or sarcasm.

"Just talk me through it," you whispered impatiently.

Cecil talked you through the steps you'd need to follow and how the sniffer device worked. When you were sure you'd mastered the simple instructions you thanked Cecil, who in turn just groaned something unintelligible and hung up.

You made your way to Billy's office and switched on his computer. You had originally intended to use the sniffer at Anvil in hopes there would be some paper trail or document on his work computer that could help piece together the mystery surrounding Blacksmith and who was in charge of the drug smuggling, you never once imagined you'd have access to his home computer though. This was a prime opportunity you couldn't pass up.

You plugged the sniffer into the laptops USB port and it made short work of getting past the password protected lock screen and logging you in. The next couple of minutes you spent waiting for the data to finish transferring onto the drive before you shut the computer off again and placed the small device back in your purse.

As you started back towards the bedroom you realised it would be smart to have an alibi in case Billy asked what you were doing if he was awakened by your getting back into bed. You grabbed your glass off the kitchen counter and refilled it with water before carrying it with you to the bedroom, where a half-awake Billy tossed about as you got back under the covers.

"Where'd you go?" He asked, his voice hoarse from sleep.

"Kitchen, I went to grab a glass of water," thank God for your quick thinking.  


You sighed in relief when he didn't question your absence any further, buying into your water run excuse -which wasn't entirely untrue.  


"Go back to sleep," you lulled to him. Billy gave no protest as he snuggled against you, breathing in your perfume and subtle scented hair as he tucked you under the weight of his arm again.  


Something about the weight of his arm around you and the feel of his skin on yours felt so good. This man was intoxicating, even without trying to be.  


***

The second time you awoke, the sun beamed through the windows of the high-rise apartment and the absence of Billy's body around yours left you feeling cold. You touched the sheets and realised they were empty, you then glanced at the digital clock on the other end of the bed and practically jumped out of the comfortable double bed when you saw the time.

"Shit," you cursed.

You scurried to gather your things from the bedroom floor when Billy's voice startled you from behind.

"And here I thought you were the kind of girl who liked being served breakfast in bed after a night of vigorous exercise."

You turned to look at Billy who had a steaming cup of black coffee in his hands and wore nothing but his boxers. The sight of him shirtless stirred something inside you, leaving you shocked at how resilient your sex drive was. You chalked it up to not having been with such a fine specimen of a man in a long time. You blinked away the X-rated thoughts that started racing through your mind.

"Usually I'm not one to turn down a home cooked breakfast, it is the most important meal of the day, after all. But I have something important to do today."  


"It's Saturday."

"I promised my boss I'd help him with a new client," you revealed.

Billy hummed in understanding, he knew the burdens of having a demanding job all too well. He took a sip of his coffee. You gave him a rushed smile and tip-toed to where he was standing. You leaned in close enough for him to get the idea you wanted a kiss and as he motioned to oblige to your unspoken request, you surprised him by stealing his coffee cup instead.  


You took a big gulp and made a pleasurable moan, enjoying every bit of the dark liquid.

"This is some great coffee."

Billy raised a brow at you and folded his arms over his chest, "You know I made enough coffee for two, you didn't have to steal mine."

You gave an apologetic shrug and you finished gathering up your things. After you finished stuffing everything into your purse it dawned on you that you didn't have any spare clothes.

"Son of a bitch!" You snapped your fingers in frustration.  


"Hope that wasn't directed at me," Billy gave a sinister smile, almost like he took some bitter satisfaction from your swearing.

"What? Uh- No, I just- I don’t have anything to wear since you..." You blushed, "Tore my dress."

Billy gave a knowing look as he made his way the drawers and pulled out a pair of slacks. He tossed them to you. They were obviously too big, but you were in no position to be picky. You put them on and fastened them in place with the draw-strings, pouting at how unflattering you looked in clothing that was two sizes too big for you. Billy laughed at your reaction.  


You didn't even dare look in the mirror, you knew you were probably suffering from bed hair. You thanked your day younger self for deciding to go all natural in the makeup department last night.

"Don't you look sexy wearing my clothes," he smirked, entwining his arms around your waist, pulling you in for a quick kiss. It wasn't as needy or feverish as the kisses of the previous night but it was still filled with the same level of passion.  


You cut the kiss short when you broke away and said, "Thanks for letting me borrow the clothes, I had a great time last night."  


"So did I, maybe we can do this again some time. You can use returning my clothes as an excuse."

Before you could answer, Billy's cell phone rang and he raised his finger to excuse himself for a moment while he took the phone call.

"Russo," he answered from the other room. You stuck your head out to hear more of the conversation, "Right now? I'm on my way." He sounded vexed.

"What was that about?" You asked out of curiosity when he returned.

He headed towards his wardrobe this time and pulled out one of his suits, "Work, it seems we both have demanding lives. I can drive you back to your place if you want, just wait for me to get dressed?"

You nodded at his offer as you left his room to pour yourself a second cup of coffee.


	3. All Work and No Play...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **A/N:** This entire chapter was inspired by the glorious serious Billy gif below. Also, the timeline for this fic takes place before Iron Fist but after Daredevil s2, which is between November 2015 and February 2016. This chapter gave me so many problems, I had hit a stone wall and was torn between an Overprotective Billy and a Jealous Billy. In the end, we know which one won out. (I’ll add the jealous Billy scenes in the deleted scenes page later!)  
> 
> 
> **Words:** 3259
> 
> **Warnings:** Ward is an Ass! Slight **NSFW**  
> 
> 
> **Summary:** An overprotective Billy, an overstepping Ward Meachum and an encrypted file lead to quite the eventful day.

(Gif is mine)

  


You burst in through the office doors making your way to your boss’s office. You were a few minutes late to a meeting with a prospective client you had been asked to help secure thanks to your late night antics. The only reason you were even fashionably late was thanks to one fantastic maniac of a cab driver.

"How's it look?" You asked the receptionist.   


She gave you an empathetic look and warned in a droll voice, "He's in a mood," she was referring to Ward. Just fucking great! You were in no mood to deal with Ward's temper tantrums this morning.

"Just my fucking luck."

You made your way into Ward's office and excused yourself when you had interrupted him mid-pitch. The clients didn't seem completely impressed by what he was selling. Ward gave you a look of displeasure as you made your way to the table.

"Ah, let me introduce you to the woman who will be heading this proposed project once it gets off the ground, Miss Y/N Y/L/N," Ward introduced you to the group of overseas clientele mid sales pitch.

You walked around Ward who whispered menacingly, "You're late." No one else heard it, but he had made his point. He didn't like being left to clean up your mess, he was probably seething. It took every ounce of his self-restraint to keep from giving off any visible signs of his anger. You knew him well enough that a simple clenched jaw and balling of his fists set off the alarms in your mind to keep from interacting with him after the meeting.

"A pleasure. Sorry I'm late, traffic." That was a lie, but it was New York, you could blame being late to anything on traffic.   


You had taken over from Ward and started relaying the details of the current contract you had set up between Rand Enterprises and an overseas company looking to sell their shares in favour of being converted into a new global group of Rand Enterprises. The pitch had started off a bit rocky but once you were in your own headspace you had no fears of the proposal being rejected. The meeting dragged on for hours and every once or twice you would see your phone screen light up as someone tried to call you, Ward was not too happy about your phone distracting from the pitch even if it was on silent.

It had taken you nearly three hours but the contract was finally signed with no need to make any amendments to the original deal. Everyone left the table feeling pleased with how smooth everything had gone. Everyone except Ward that is, who was still trying hard not to let that vein on his forehead pop.

"A pleasure doing business with you. I'll be sure to draft the first legal buyout draft and send it to your offices by tomorrow," you thanked the businessmen as they made their way out of the office.

"I hope ours will be a profitable relationship," Ward added.

When it was only you and Ward left in his overly large office he walked round to you, hands folded, chest puffed up and nostrils flaring. He was not holding back anymore.

"How dare you be late today?" He barked at you, "Did I not make it clear that it was imperative we land this deal?" He swept a hand through his shiny hair before taking a breath, a poor effort at calming himself down.

You bit the inside of your cheek to keep from making matters worse and egging his tantrum further.   


"What the fuck was so important you'd risk missing this meeting for? And don't feed me that bullshit about traffic."   


You were getting sick and tired of his attitude, but what could you do, Ward was your boss and to be frank you'd rather deal with his temper than your father’s judgement if you lost your job.   


You looked Ward square in the eye, he found the raw intensity of your angry gaze discomforting. He was forced to look away from your eyes as he fidgeted about, shuffling from one foot to the other. He wasn't just angry but agitated too. He looked to be sweating a little as well.

"It's not bullshit. This is New York, I chose the wrong cab and left home later than I should have. Hence, the traffic," You shot back. "Besides, I closed the deal, didn't I?"

Ward loosened his tie and went to plonk himself down on his office chair spinning it to face the window that overlooked half the city. His head hung back on the neck rest.

"Just draw up the paperwork. I expect it on my desk in the next two hours."

Two hours? He was being unreasonable and you knew it was his way of punishing you for being late. It wasn't impossible to have the paperwork done by then, but it was going to be a bitch.

You grabbed your phone and bag off the table and made your way to the door, "I'll get right on it."

"Next time… turn your phone off during meetings. I need your full attention when you're here," Ward's words were no longer coated in angry undertones, it was different this time. His words sounded proprietorial, it made you feel uneasy around him.

You didn't know what to say so you went with something that sounded detached and professional, "I apologise for the oversight. I thought I had turned it off earlier."   


You walked out of the office before you could give Ward the chance to say anything else, itching to place some distance between him and yourself. You hated having to deal with Ward on legal matters, you preferred working with his sister, Joy. She may not have been as joyful as her name suggests, but she was less of a handful.

Back in your office, you began to type up the legal documents Ward had requested -more like ordered- of you. As your mastered hands typed away at the keys, your phone's screen became illuminated, someone was calling you. You looked at the caller ID and to your utter disbelief, it was Billy calling. You needed to learn to use a password for your phone.   


"Did you program your number into my phone this morning?" You sounded both impressed and sceptical.

"You should really make it a habit to put a password on your phone. Besides, I wasn't sure when I'd see you again, so I took the initiative," Billy's voice was low and soothing, the stressful events of the morning quickly forgotten as soon as his voice met your ears.   


Instantly, you blood turned to ice as panic set in. If he had access to your phone, could he have seen the sniffer device? You rustled through your bag for a second and then let out a sigh of relief. In your panic, you had forgotten Cecil had disguised your sniffer device to look like a turtle-shaped USB drive.   


_Thank you, Cecil,_ you praised inaudibly.

"Y/N, are you still there?"

You cleared your throat, "Yeah, sorry. I'm a bit preoccupied with work, I'm practically buried under a mountain of paperwork," you groaned.

Billy chuckled, "Want me to come save you again?"

"Tempting… but I think I can manage to save myself this time," you said brazenly. A cheeky smile spreading across your face.

"I don't doubt that. How about _you_ save _me_ from a boring night alone by letting me take you out on a proper date tonight? We can get to know each other a little bit better over a few drinks, seeing as how we didn't spend a lot of our time together… talking."   


He was sly, you'd give him that, a part of you wanted to see him again, be near him again. You felt your resolve failing as you opened your mouth and let the words spill out.

"I get off work at five. I'll text you the address. Goodbye, Russo," With that, you hung up the phone and dialled for your secretary on the office phone.

"Yes, Miss Y/L/N?" Gavin, your secretary, answered.

"Hey, Gavin. Can you call the IT department and tell Cecil to come up here. My computer froze again."

"Right on it boss-man," Gavin said in a peppy attitude.

You cut the call and continued working on your paperwork, your computer working in perfect condition.

***  
You were halfway done drawing up the documents when Cecil walked in looking like death itself. His messenger laptop bag was strapped across his skinny chest and his long bony fingers clutched onto a disposable coffee cup like it was some ancient prized treasure. His curly dark hair was ruffled and his eyes had circles moderately the same colour as his hair: dark.

You eyed him up and down, the poor kid looked like he'd survived a few rounds with the grim reaper.

“You look like shit."

Cecil gave you the stink eye before walking around your desk to lean against the table next to you, he made sure to move some office equipment around to make room for him to plant himself atop your desk lazily.

“Someone rudely awoke me last night. I'm an insomniac which means whatever precious few hours of sleep I do get should not be disturbed," He droned out.   


You pulled out the turtle shaped drive and handed it to Cecil, "Disguising it in this-" You pointed at the drive, "-was a good idea," you applauded his ingenuity.

Cecil took a large swig of his coffee before extending his hand to you. You placed the drive in his palm and watched him twist it and turn it this and that as though he could process information simply by staring at a storage device. You smirked at him in amusement.   


Cecil never ceased to amaze you. From his terrible flat humour to his constant sleep deprived state, he reminded you a lot of your brother. He was about the same age too, only less chipper or emotionally weighed down. Of course, the drawback of that was the fact he was cursed with have permanent bags under his eyes, you don't remember a single day where Cecil looked well rested.  


You felt the poisonous sting of grief threaten to make itself know, being around Cecil had revived all your repressed emotions towards your brother. And yet despite the fact you tried to close yourself off to him, treat him with indifference, he had a way of lighting up the room even if he only ever wore black clothing and sported a perpetual blasé look.   


You balled your fists to distract yourself from the emotional pain by focusing on the physical pain of your nails digging into your palms. If Cecil had noticed your subtle emotional break, he hadn't bothered to comment on it.

He pulled out a pair of large noise-cancelling headphones and placed them over his ears. The sound of muffled metal could be heard faintly coming from his headphones. You grimaced at the discomfort your own ears would have suffered had that been you.   


Cecil spun around and then reversed towards your large glass office doors, "I'll text you once I sort through the data. Don't call me, it will be ready when it's ready and not a moment earlier."

You shook your head at his terrible social skills, musing at how freeing it must be to have no filter for your words or have to pretend around people. You mouthed a heartfelt, "Get. Some. Sleep" at the kid and watched his give you a Vulcan salute before disappearing down the office hallway.

***

Your two hours were nearly up when you had just finished proofing the paperwork for Ward when the man himself waltzed into your office, airs about him like he hadn't just had a moment of distress earlier.

"Mr Meachum, I was just finishing up the first draft. I was going to ask Gavin to deliver the documents to you," you affirmed.

Ward seemed taken aback for a second, fixing his tie in place. When he finally caught on to your meaning he cleared his throat and pinched his nostrils, taking a deep snort like inhale, "Ah, yes, the paperwork. That's not actually why I came down here."

"Oh?" Now it was your turn to look on in confusion.  
Ward fiddled skittishly with his hands, not knowing whether to fold them or lean them on your desk, he settled for the former.

"I wanted to apologise for my behaviour earlier. I was just wound up about this new deal and you are one of the few people I depend upon to be on their A-game. I'm sorry for overstepping my boundaries. I shouldn't have lost my temper with you," Ward stepped closer to you, almost like he was about to make a move.   


You watched him cautiously, not entirely sure on how to process his apology.

"It's alright, don't worry about it."   


You quickly hit send and your mail was sent to Ward and Joy's collective inbox for them to read over the contract. You stood from your chair and grabbed your small bag off the ground as you made your way towards the door. You hoped Ward would pick up on your not-so-inconspicuous indication that you were trying to bolt before this conversation got any more uncomfortable.

He didn't.

Instead, he stepped in front of you, looking down with a sleazy smile, "Listen, how about you join me for a drink? Least I could do to make up for being such an asshole earlier."

You kept your composure and held yourself steady, you had dealt with many unwanted suitors who didn't know when their advances were not welcomed. However, Ward was your boss, you had to deal with this in a muted manner, make him become disinterested, "That won't be necessary. Besides, I already have plans."

Something in Ward snapped and his demeanour changed from unprofessional to angry, "Is that the reason you got those personal calls during the meeting this morning?" His temper was getting worse by the minute. What was his deal?  


"I don't see how that is your business, Ward," You dropped all pleasantries and glared back at him. You had never called him by his first name and the blatant disrespect of it had enraged Ward further.

Ward grabbed your forearm and leaned in closer to your face, nostrils flaring and veins protruding, you were prepared to sock him in the jaw when you heard Gavin's soft voice stammering worriedly in the distance, "S- Sir, you can't just- You need to make an appointment. Sir!"

You lifted your head to see Billy standing tall and menacing in front of both you and Ward. Poor Gavin looked at a loss for words as he stood behind Billy completely dumbfounded.   


Billy's jaw clenched and his eyes narrowed. His dark eyes turning black as he gave Ward a lethal stare. If looks could kill alone, Billy could have easily mastered that deadly skill. Something about the severity of his gaze burned you, for the first time in a long time you were reminded what fear felt like. Cold shivers crept up your spine and Ward showcased his own look of dread.

"Let. Her. Go." Billy glowered. His voice a tone darker than you remembered. Ward complied, but then he turned to stare down Billy instead.

"Who the hell are you?" Ward barked.

"Billy Russo, who the fuck are you?" Billy glared at Ward's hand still clenching your arm in a death grip. Ward loosened it and you snatched your arm away.  


"Ward Meachum, the CEO of the building you’re standing in," Ward said with an air of entitlement.

Billy took a step closer, his figure towering over Wards. He pinched his nose and inhaled deeply, "So what, that gives you the right to manhandle your employees?"

"That gives me the right to do whatever the fuck I damn well please."

Both men glowered at each other. They looked like feral beasts about to claw each other to shreds. Impeccably well-groomed feral beasts.   


Billy standing up to Ward was enough to light that fire within you instantly, you gulped at the tense moment unfolding before you.   


Finally, you took it upon yourself to diffuse the situation before more damage could be done. As much as you wanted to punch Ward in his perfectly polished teeth, you needed this job, which meant Billy couldn't fight your battles for you. Not that you needed him too.

You placed your hand on Billy's chest, ushering him out of the office, "Billy, let it go." He didn't budge an inch. "Russo!" You snapped at him garnering his attention. His eyes snapped to yours faster than lightning.

"Whatever you say," Billy gave you a reassuring smirk, but his fists were still balled up on his sides. As he turned around to leave your office, he shot Ward one last menacing glare.

"Have a pleasant day, Mr Meachum," you said, tongue in cheek. Ward simply scoffed and clenched down on his jaw hard enough you could see his vein straining against his temple.

On your way out Gavin looked like he was about to say something, clearly, he was beyond shocked at witnessing that little power wrestle between Billy and Ward, "That's quite alright Gavin, you're excused for the day," you said.   


***

"How can you work for such an asshole?" Billy's hands were locked in a death grip on his steering wheel. His nostril flaring slightly.

You let out an ironic laugh, "Don't most people?" Billy didn't find your comment amusing, he was too tightly wound. "Hey-" you whispered as you pulled his face to look at you, "Anyone ever tell you how hot you look when you’re angry?"

Billy smirked, "Well, now they have."

"Thank you… Though, I hope you know I didn't need you to come to my rescue. I can handle myself."

"I know you can. If you don't take shit from me, chances are you don't take shit from anyone else."

"Glad we're in understanding then," you said as you pulled Billy closer for a kiss.

The kiss soon turned impatient and needy, both of you letting out lewd sounding pants. You were already wet from watching Billy be all aggressive towards Ward, you knew you couldn't last the rest of the night and you certainly didn't want to wait either. In fluid movements, you slid your panties off, manoeuvred around his gear shift and pulled up your pencil skirt to straddled him in his seat. Billy chuckled.

"Someone might see," he said, though he wasn't protesting. A suggestive smirk plastered on his godlike features.

"I know," you breathed out before you unbuckled his belt, unzipped his pants and began to fuck him in his extremely expensive car in the underground parking lot. His leather seats let out moans of their own every time you gripped them for stability.


	4. A Different Kind of Intoxicated

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **A/N:** I liked the idea of the reader being responsible for introducing Billy to that dive bar he took Medani to and how he kept going there because it reminded him of her or something like that, so I went with it! Also, military and war conversations gave me anxiety to write because... am I being cliche? disrespectful? not dramatic enough? So I used Billy's illusive nature to cover that!!  
>  **Words:** 3328  
>  **Warnings:** None that come to mind... Knife Play?  
> 

(Gif isn’t mine)

  


After Billy's rush to your aid with the whole Ward situation, you thought it best if you thanked him by offering to buy him a drink at your local haunt and since the two of you had been spent that night, you decided to invite him out the next day.

"Is this where you bring all your dates?" Billy asked with a cold beer in one hand. This must have been the first time you had seen him out of one of his custom tailored suits. He wore a green sweater and jeans, but he looked just as handsome as ever. In fact, you seemed to prefer him looking all casual. You had opted for your favourite pair of jeans and an old band t-shirt from college, this wasn't a date of pretences.

You had hoped that by luring Billy to a place where you felt most comfortable and open, where you needn't put on airs or pretend to be something you weren't, would make him open up a little. But as it stands, he is a tough nut to crack this Billy Russo.

"What, you don't like my choice in bars?" You teased. You had brought him to one of your favourite hangouts, a dive bar not too far from your apartment. It was the furthest thing from high-end and exclusive you could find. When you worked as a military prosecutor some of the guys stationed on your base had mentioned this place to you and as soon as you got home, you made sure to check it off your list. Somehow it had grown on you and in no time you became a regular by name basis.

"No, no. It's… homey," Billy laughed into his beer bottle.

"Yeah, well, the beers are cheap, the music is good and I know most of the regulars here. Besides, on the rare occasion, I bump into some old military buddies when they're off duty," You took a swig of your own drink, not beer because you weren't the biggest fan, but a gin and tonic instead. "And, I figured this would be a better place to get to know each other… since we haven't spent much time talking."

"I never had a problem with that," he shot a dastardly smirk your way and you had to bite the inside of your cheek to keep from smiling.

"Hmm, I noticed."

"So, you served?" Billy asked with a serious edge in his voice. Guess he was dropping the shameless flirt act. Finally!

"Not in the conventional sense. I was a military prosecutor. I spent most of my days working with soldiers in need of legal counsel or representation."

"Helping the little guy, it suits you. Where were you stationed?"

"My last post was in Juarez," Billy's jaw tensed at the mention of Juarez, but the rest of his body was locked in a relaxed posture, he was good at hiding his thoughts but you were good at reading people. "I was working on a case about drug charges and some allegations surrounding a high ranking officer, it was to be my big break. The case to make or break my career." There was a hint of bitterness in your words. You swirled your drink in your hand before emptying the glass of its contents. You flagged down the bartender and pointed to your glass.

"So what happened with the case?" Billy asked, eyes fixed attentively on your face.

"Considering you visited my current place of employment, it's safe to say nothing happened. The case never saw the light of day, thanks to my father. He said it was dangerous to meddle in such affairs. He pulled some strings and the next thing I knew I was being transferred stateside."  


The venom in your words had become more concentrated and potent, you hadn't meant for your animosity towards your father to be so blindingly obvious. In your defence, you never talked about your complicated relationship with anyone else.  


You were good at compartmentalising, but there were some things that harangued you emotionally in the back if your mind. Now that you were talking about them out loud, they sat uncomfortably in your stomach, like rocks weighing you down.  


You needed to pull yourself together, this wasn't the place or the time and you had a mission to focus on.

"You sound angry at him, it sounds like he was doing what he felt was best for you," Billy said.

Your head shot up and you glared at him for a moment, rage bubbling at the surface. Billy held up his hands in surrender, obviously not wanting to incur your wrath.  


You swallowed hard to keep from saying anything distasteful.  


In the corner of your eye, you noticed Billy looking over the many changes of your face as various emotions battled to win out. You settled with a stern look and pursed your lips in a grim line.

The bartender came over and refilled your glass before going back to tend to some other patrons on at the end of the bar. You emptied your glass in record time, Billy looked on in astonishment.

"Yeah, maybe," You ran your hands through your hair and turned to look at Billy, "What about you, I’m guessing you served. What made you decide to go in the private sector?"

Billy took another swig of his beer, still half full, "How did you know I served?"

You rolled your eyes and snickered, "You're the CEO of a military defence company and the way you carry yourself screams military. Not to mention the way you handled yourself around Ward yesterday, it’s pretty obvious you were military."

"You've got some good points there," Billy rolled up his sleeves and leaned further back in his seat, a low chuckle emerging from his smiling lips as he ran a hand through his scruff. "I was in the Marines. Spent most of my adult life on the front lines."

"What made you enlist?"

"I didn't come from much and I wasn't going to spend the rest of my life fighting for scraps. My choices were to stay where I was, going nowhere, or join the military. Suffice to say, I saw a better future for myself in the military," he snapped his fingers, "And at first that's all it was: a way out. Then it became something more, it became a way of life. And that's the whole story." 

There was a hint of sincerity in his words, it may not have been some grand revelation about his life, and he did manage to keep the subject about himself ambiguous enough to prevent you from uncovering any skeletons, but there was still something about the way he said those words that held a gravity to them. You felt a bit sad for him.

"If it meant so much to you, why did you leave?"

"I won't try and make it sound glamorous, that life was hell most of the time. After a while, you just get tired of losing people and constantly being on edge. You have to realise when it’s time to move on and I'm one of the lucky ones, I got out just in time."

"What was your last tour?" You knew it was Kandahar, you knew it was classified because you couldn't find any legal records of it, but you had to take a chance, maybe he'd slip up or maybe he'd inadvertently push you towards a new lead.  


When you noticed him look at you with an unreadable expression you tried to elaborate further so as to not make it too obvious you were fishing for intel.

"The way you describe it, how you got out in time, it sounds like something must have happened. Something that, perhaps, turned the tide." You tried to downplay the reason for your asking him about his tour.  


Billy chuckled again, he had a way of doing that before he deflected. Was it a tell? You were annoyed you didn't know him well enough to make that assumption.

"You've gotta buy me another drink first," he relayed cheekily.

Damn! He was good at avoiding important questions. You gave him a smirk of your own, not willing to drop this anytime soon. You flagged down the bartender again before the two of you got talking about nothing of importance. Billy had a way of spinning the conversation back to you and shrugging off anything mildly close to personal way from him. A defence mechanism finely tuned and perfected over the years, no doubt.

After a few hours of this back and forth, you were comfortably inebriated as evident from your rose dusted cheeks and nose. Billy seemed only slightly less held together. 

You felt like you were banging your head against a wall. Then, unexpectedly, one of the regulars you were familiar with saw you seated by the bar and walked over.

"Y/N, haven't seen you here in a while."

 _You mean since my brother’s funeral,_ you clarified in your mind.

You had to take a second to familiarise yourself with the numbness of your tongue to keep from slurring your words, "Rodney!" You exclaimed happily, "I'm good, good. How's the knee?"

"You know, busted." He knocked his knuckles against the brace. "How's my nephew doing? Not getting into trouble I hope."

"Cecil? Nah, he's a model citizen that one. Keepin' good 'ours-- hours…" You said. Billy awkwardly shuffled behind you and you realised you had been rude not to introduce him, "Oh, right. Rodney this is my… friend, Billy Russo. Billy this is Rodney one of those regulars I was talkin' about."

Billy and Rodney shared a firm handshake and exchanged curt nods before Billy said: "A pleasure."

"Likewise," Rodney answered. "Anyway, I'll let you two get back to your evening. It's great to see you about." Rodney squeezed your arm in a comforting manner before walking to the back, with a noticeable limp, where a group of his buddies had congregated.

"A friend of yours?" Billy asked.

You had a pleasant smile on your face, "Rodney? Yeah, sort of. I actually met him when I was heading up one of my last military cases. He busted his knee in a bar fight, I was his representation."

"How noble of you. It sounds like you were good at your job," When you didn't respond to his endearment, and after Billy noticed the flinch of your eye, he decided to change the subject, "And what's the story with Cecil?"

"Inquisitive, I see. Cecil is his nephew. He hit a rough patch after his parents died. Got up to all sorts of mischief. Exceptionally brilliant kid. So, I bailed him out and got him a job at Rand Enterprises." You revealed, but as soon as you did, you regretted it. Cecil should never have been mentioned by name. Especially since what he was helping you with wasn't exactly safe and you didn't know who you could trust.

Just as Billy looked as though he was about to say something cocky, his phone rang, interjecting him. He excused himself to take the call and you nursed what was your fifth drink of the night.

"Hey John, do me a solid, fill this with water please," you asked the bartender. John gave a rumbly laugh before tossing the dishcloth on his shoulder and taking your now empty glass to fill with water.

"Sure thing." John was quick with your order and you were grateful for the refreshing cup of water.

You looked over to where Billy stood, under the cover of shadow from a blind spot where no light shone, he appeared to be having an animated conversation with whoever was on the line, and it wasn't a civil one at that. His brows furrowed and his jaw clenched, his dark eyes appearing darker than a moonless, starless night sky -void of comprehensive emotion, like the cold vacuum of space. Agitated was an understatement! Oh, how he appeared right then... It frightened you, your skin crawled with goose-flesh on reflex. You averted your eyes and rubbed at your speckled flesh. A few minutes later he returned to his seat in a sour mood.  


"Sorry about that. Work," Billy's dark tone elicitated a shiver from you, though whether it was from a primal sexual desire or legitimate fear, was anyone's guess. "I'm needed in the office, some urgent business about misfiling with a prospective client."

"Ah, the true menace to society: misfiled paperwork," you pouted.

Billy ran a hand through his hair and gave you a heart melting, anxiety-inducing look that made the air seem to increase in temperature, "If you want to keep this little thing going, you can tag along. It won't take longer than a half hour."

"Hmm, let me think. Spend a half hour sobering up by myself, here, or get to wreak havoc at your offices?" You weighed invisible scales as your lip was screwed up in faux thought, "Yeah the latter wins, no debate about it."  


You picked up your purse and snaked your arms into your leather jacket -which proved a bit more challenging since you had stood too quickly and suffered a bout of vertigo, Billy had to hold you steady, the feel of his strong arms around your shoulders lit a fire inside you once more. Turns out it didn't take much for him to elicit such a reaction from you.

"Take my car?" Billy offered. You snorted.

"Well we better, I walked here!" You said. Billy looked at you oddly, "What? I live close by."

Billy let another laugh roll off his tongue and walked you out of the bar, making sure to pay for the drinks first, even after you fought to pay for your own drinks.

***

At the offices of Anvil, Billy had excused himself in his office to make several phone calls and deal with whatever emergency had driven him here. You, on the other hand, sauntered about the open plan offices and stumbled from one empty room to the next until you wound up in a training room. There was a collection of training mats and a rack mounted to the wall containing sheathed combat knives. Curiosity taking over, you walked over to the rack to look over the knives. You pulled one small knife off the rack -though it was still larger than you were comfortable with.

It was heavy, for a knife anyway. You unclipped the protective sheath and you were genuinely surprised to find out it wasn't a real knife. The blade was blunted and made of hard plastic. If someone attacked you with it, it could probably scrape some skin or bruise, but it couldn't impale.

"That is a replica of an MTECH M-A1020BK tactical knife. Designation 'Reaper'," Billy announced his presence behind you, you jumped from surprise.

"Oh, 'Reaper', that's not a cliché name at all," you quipped.

He walked over and took the knife from your hands, his fingers engaging in fancy knife moves, it was impressive to see. "It's light," he flipped the knife and caught it without averting his eyes from yours, "Sleek," he showed off another impressive knife move, "And sexy," this time he winked at you. You rolled your eyes.

"It's plastic is what it is," you said with a hint of sass.

"They're training knives, they have to be. Can't be impaling the new hires, now can I?" Billy retorted. Suddenly a thought popped into his head and he gave you a devilish look. "Come here, I'll show you some moves." He hooked a finger at you and beckoned you closer, even though you tried to appear unimpressed, you walked over anyway.

When you were practically chest to chest, Billy graciously spun you around and placed both his arms over yours, extending them away from your chests. He moved your hands in concise, repetitive strokes, his cologne driving you crazy and his breath tickling your ear. You couldn't help but giggle.

"Are you even paying attention?" Billy asked from behind you.

"Is this your idea of a second date? Suggestive Knife play in your training room?"

"Was that a play on foreplay?"

"Yes it was"

"It was terrible"

"Screw me I'm drunk. I- I meant sue me."

Billy huffed, "How about: you manage to tackle me and I might be tempted to oblige with your first request," he teased.

Billy showed you more moves and when you felt confident enough you challenged him to a little knife play attack and block sparing match. Billy moved effortlessly, without breaking so much as a sweat. He managed to dodge, block and stop every advancement. When he got bored he quickly disarmed you without causing any pain or discomfort to you and tackled you to the ground, using his weight to pin you down.

Floor tackles you were more proficient in and you waited for him to drop his guard as he leaned in closer to kiss you before you hooked your legs around his neck and used his weight against him to shift him off you and then under you. Now you were positioned on top and pinning his arms above his head and Billy was completely taken aback. You had the upper hand now and a wicked grin crept over your alcohol tingling lips.

"What can I say, military brat," you explained.

"I'm not complaining, just impressed and kinda turned on right now."

With that, your lips met his in a hungry, alcohol-fuelled kiss. His arms -now freed from your grip- snaked around your waist and yours worked through his dark hair. His tongue swirling in your mouth, massaging your own in tender strokes, his scruff burning red marks on your bare, sweat glistening face. A guttural growl filled the space and you whimpered into it, like a helpless animal stuck in the jaws of its predator.

To your annoyance, mid-makeout, your phone chimed from inside your purse and you had to practically crawl out from under Billy's heavy arms. His eyes staring at you in a deep lustful gaze.

"Ignore it," Billy ordered. You took pleasure in defying him.

"Like you ignored your work call, Russo?" snark lacing your tone.

You read the message on your phone, it was from Cecil: "It's done," was all it said and you knew exactly what it entailed. With a sigh and a fix of your shirt, you said: "It looks like we may have to cut this short."

***

Billy sat in his office skulking in the dark, his thoughts had been bombarded by flashes of her face. She was laughing, tackling him to the ground, moaning his name, moaning his last name, throwing snarky commentary his way. She was more than he bargained for. He tried to scrub her clean from his mind by demolishing a half bottle of whiskey, it wasn't helping.

He stared at his phone for a moment, hesitant to pick it up and make his regular check-in. But he was a soldier damn it! And he would do what needed to be done, just like on the battlefields in Kandahar, just as always.

He let out a gruntled sigh and picked up his burner phone, hitting speed dial. He waited for the ringing to end and the click to sound. When it did he said: "She took the bait, we just have to see if she's willing to swallow it."

"Does she know about the operations?"

"Inconclusive, I'll dig further."

"Anything else?"

"Look into someone, an associate of hers named Cecil."

"Last name?"

"Unknown. He has an uncle named Rodney."

Billy hung up and carelessly threw his phone in the drawer. He poured another glass to numb his senses, all the while she never left his thoughts.


	5. The Kid with all the Gifts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **A/N:** Yeah so we’re taking a breather from all the rollercoaster Billy emotions and settling instead for a nice plot building bottleneck chapter. I didn’t know I enjoyed writing for Cecil so much until now!! Incase you aren't familiar with Cecil from the MCU [this](https://marvel.fandom.com/wiki/Cecil_\(Hacker\)_\(Earth-616\)) is him.  
>  **Words:** 2745  
>  **Warnings:** Language  
> 

_(gif isn’t mine)_

The drive to Cecil's apartment was long and winding. Since it was already after midnight, you were a little more tired than you would have liked given the fact you were driving after having had a few drinks earlier. Not your brightest idea, but then again it's not like you were seeing double or anything.

Cecil and his uncle, Rodney lived a ways out of the city on a suburban street about a half hours drive from your apartment.

You had stopped at a 24/7 diner you frequented and bought a family sized meal to go. You figured Cecil had been so focused on the task at hand –sorting through the data you pulled from Billy’s computer- that he probably forgot to eat.

When you arrived at Cecil's home you parked the car by the driveway and walked over to the garage. The lights in the house were off which meant Rodney was probably asleep.

You felt a little guilty for dragging his nephew into your mess. When you had made the decision to seek out Cecil and acquire his help, it had been an impulse choice made from grief, anger and frustration at not being able to dig up the information you needed that eventually led you to Billy in the first place.

You knocked twice on the rusty metal door and waited for Cecil to open the door.

Cecil looked in a worse state than he had this morning. He was still wearing his soundproof headphones except you couldn't hear any music playing off them. He gave you a weak smile that didn't at all seem genuine and you in turn silently shoved the brown take away paper bag from the diner into his hands as you walked over to his custom built computer system.

There were four monitors arranged to form one large four-way split screen. The two top monitors were displaying some code, another had the emblem of the CIA on the background as it ran a program that read '100% complete' and the last monitor had several windows open from emails to bank invoices.

You let out an impressed whistle.

Cecil was a goddamn genius!

"What's this?" Cecil asked as he buried his nose into the takeaway bag.

"Food," you said flatly, not turning from the monitors.

"I can see that. What kind of food?" He asked exasperatedly.

"The edible kind."

Cecil sighed and blinked at you slowly, but he decided against saying anything else knowing full well you'd just keep giving him obvious answers that would only serve to irritate him.

He unpacked the food from the brown bag and arranged the plastic food containers in an orderly fashion on his workbench. There were hundreds of old and new electronic components lying about with a set of tools arranged from the smallest to the largest placed next to each project with equal spacing between them.

"Do you have any coffee?" you asked him as you watched tentatively as he opened each food container and placed the lids to the side of their corresponding containers. Again with equal spacing between them.

Cecil didn't look up from what he was doing, he simply pointed past you to the largest thermos you had ever seen in your life that was on top of his mini fridge next to several pieces of cutlery from various take-out places and a stack of paper cups.

You walked over and poured yourself a cup of coffee, to your astonishment the thermos was nearly empty.

How long had he been awake? Had he even slept since the night you called him from Billy's apartment? He must have, it had been two days since then. Three if you counted the fact it was past midnight.

Cecil picked at the food you gave him like a scrawny bird sifting through a bowl of assorted seeds. His fingers were long and crooked from overuse, some of them had burn marks from the soldering tool and his nails had a thin line of grease under them.

Cecil opened a can of coke after he was done playing with his food and took off his headphones to rest around his neck like some obnoxious piece of jewellery. You sat on the hood of Rodney's 67 Mustang that he was in the middle of restoring.

"I finished sorting through the drive, though I don't think you'll like what I found," he informed you as he popped a hash brown into his mouth.

"What?" Your voice was shaky. You honestly didn't know what you had expected to find, but Cecil's words now left you feeling nervous.

"Nothing. Nada. Zilch."

You gave him a confused look, "That can't be right."

"Your boy's clean. The digital footprint Schoonover left behind, the one that led us to believe he was involved in these drug dealings connected to the Blacksmith, they didn't show up in Billy's systems," Cecil clarified.

"So there's nothing amiss?" You asked seemingly disheartened by the lack of new evidence to help build your case, "Nothing?"

Cecil tilted his head to the side and gave you a shit-eating grin, "I said he was clean, I didn't say there was nothing amiss."

"So what did you find?"

"A worm."

"A what?" Your eyebrows knit together in confusion.

Cecil rolled his eyes, he had momentarily forgotten you weren't as well versed in the world of computers and algorithms and coding like he was. He stifled a yawn and took another swig from the coke can.

"The sniffer device picked up a worm. It’s a standalone computer malware program that in spread throughout a computer system. In this case, the worm contained a smaller program embedded with spyware. Which means in some instances it can be used to leech or back-trace information when you access an internet connection. Lucky for you I run on a closed network and I was able to discover the little bugger before it could be activated.

"It's not some crappy porn site malware calibre worm either, there was some elaborate coding involved in this. It's an extreme security measure in case someone tried to hack Mr Russo’s systems. I wasn't expecting something this intricate to be hiding in his home system." Cecil said as he popped another hash brown in his mouth.

"Why would he go to such lengths if he had nothing incriminating on his computer?" You asked yourself. "Unless… he knew I would try and access his systems if given the chance and he was hoping I'd be deterred from investigating further into the Blacksmith due to the lack of incriminating evidence."

"Bingo!" Cecil exclaimed.

"But how would he know about my investigation? I was careful, paranoid even." Your hands shook slightly, the coffee swaying about from side to side in your paper cup.

Cecil pointed to the monitor that displayed the CIA logo on it, "Because Big Brother is always watching. I got an alert from one of the backdoor route access programs I embedded in several authority databases and one of them went off.”

You looked at him with wide eyes and disbelief, “You installed backdoors into the CIA database?”

“Yes, but that’s beside the point. The program is alerted when several keywords are used in conjunction. In this case: Cecil, Rodney, Y/N, and a bunch of others. Whoever it is that Billy is working for, they have probably been onto you since day one. And now they're onto me too. In fact, I think he was banking on you accessing his home computer, which means he didn’t just charm you into his bed for the fun of it."

The feeling of betrayal snaked around your chest and you felt somewhat dirty for having slept with Billy that first night.

Turns out you weren't in control like you had believed. Turns out he was the one who was several steps ahead of you from the get-go.  Your lip curled into a snarl as you massaged your pressure point between your eyes.

What frightened you the most was how easy his performance had been. He had lulled you into a false sense of security, he made you believe you had held all the cards at the table. You had been a fool never to suspect he may have been onto you from the moment you added his name to the guest list of your father’s gala.

And worse yet was the realisation that this drug conspiracy went deeper than you initially thought.

If the CIA were involved, where did the trail of lies and deceit and dishonour end? Was it even possible to get justice for all those soldiers brought home in wooden coffins, stuffed with drugs and treated with such disrespect, to get the justice you had sworn to serve them?

No, you weren't going to back down. You weren't going to let some men hiding behind the honour and valour of others more brave and noble than them scare you away just because they had the security of a shield protecting them.

This wasn't just about seeking justice for your brother anymore, this was about upholding the integrity of the very constitution he had chosen to protect when he had left for war.

But something about the worm didn't sit right with you. If Billy had intended for you to end up in his apartment, under his sheets, under him. If he had lured you there in the hopes you would try to access his files, then didn't that mean in order for him to believe you had taken the bait you'd have to activate the back-trace? It was risky, beyond risky, but you had to do it.

"Cecil, we need to activate the back-trace," you informed him.

Cecil nearly choked on his can of coke as he shot up from his chair, one of the tools on the desk rolling away breaking the order he had arranged everything in.

"Are you insane? Do you want to get suicided? Because that's how you get suicided!" he shouted at you.

You held up your hand to calm him down, "Just hear me out, Billy and whoever he answers to in the CIA are waiting for the worm to activate a back-trace, that way they know I accessed his files. And then they'd know I took the bait. If I didn't activate the back-trace it would only shine more suspicion on me."

Cecil's eyes went wide with recognition as he made an 'Oh' sound.

"This is getting more complicated by the minute," he shook his head, worry clearly showing on his face.

"Look, I know this is dangerous, that's why after this you can consider our partnership over. Deal?" You extended your hand to shake on your promise.

Cecil stared at your hand with a strange look, "No."

You were taken aback by his answer.

"No, my Uncle damn near lost his life fighting their wars-" he pointed to the monitors again, "And my father did lose his life fighting their wars. This, what you’re doing, this is my way of honouring that sacrifice. It's my way of repaying the debt me and my Uncle owe you. So I'm with you, through everything."

Cecil sounded proud and sure of himself, his voice never once wavering. He had shown more courage in that one moment than most people did in their entire lives.

You were completely blown away but you were conflicted. You wanted to say no, to refuse for him to get mixed up any further in this mess, but you realised this stopped being your crusade the moment you blackmailed him to help you hack the flight logs of the military plane that brought your brother's body home. This became his fight too.

You balled your hand into a fist and returned it back to your paper cup of coffee.

"Alright, fine, we stay as partners," you accepted painstakingly, hoping that you wouldn’t come to regret your decision.

"Good, now let me work my magic and fool the back-trace into thinking we're at your apartment when we activate it. I can’t very well lead them here, I still need to keep my Uncle safe." He wisecracked, breaking the tension slightly.

You found some morbid sense of humour in his words and let out a breathy chuckle.

Cecil, with his headphones back in their rightful place, went to sit on his desk chair as he typed at machine-gun speed levels while you sat on the hood of the Mustang contemplating your next move.

After a few minutes, Cecil took off his headphones, let out a sigh, popped his knuckles in satisfaction and stood to stretch his legs.

"It's done. They think you accessed the file with the worm program at your apartment. Oh, and by the way, they're probably going to bug your apartment to keep tabs on you so don't say anything that could give them any ideas about you not falling for the bait.”

You nodded at Cecil, taking his advice to heart.

“So what's our next move?" Cecil asked as he rubbed his temples, a headache from lack of adequate sleep was beginning to form.

"I honestly don't know," you said in exasperation, "I mean someone somewhere must know something about the Blacksmith. If we figure out who he is, maybe we can figure out who he's working within the CIA."

Cecil looked at you skittishly, like he wanted to say something but feared you might dismiss him.

"You have an idea don't you?" You asked.

Cecil typed away at the keyboard until a personnel file for the New York Bulletin popped up for a woman named Karen Page as well as an article that read 'Castle Murders Army General, Disappears.' It was dated before the article about his home burning down and his alleged death.

"A while back, when you had –Ahem- asked me to help you, I came across this article in the New York Bulletin. It covered the murder of Ray Schoonover. Something about the recounting of events didn't add up to me, so I dug a little further. I was able to track down one of the sources of the article. It's a woman named Karen Page. And get this, she's now an employee at the very same paper. I think she may know what actually happened that night."

"So you think this… Karen Page, will be able to help me piece things together?"

"It's just a hunch, but it's worth a shot."

"I guess you're right. Get some sleep. You did good, kid." You shot him a smile. Cecil let out another yawn. "I mean it, you did good."

You emptied the cup of its contents and headed for the door.

You had a reporter to see.

***

Billy was working up a sweat in the training room. He had decided against returning to his apartment just yet, he was a little too drunk to drive and he thought it best to wait for confirmation if Y/N had activated the spyware he had installed on his home computer.

He punched and kicked and beat his fists against the punching bag until his hands were raw. He hadn’t been this worked up over a woman since… Well, since ever.

She kept haranguing him. Every time he slept he’d see her. Teasing him, smiling at him, looking at him in horror and anger as betrayal contorted her face. But most of the time he’d be haunted by the image of her pooling blood around her cold, pale body.

He couldn’t get attached. He didn’t even know why she mattered so much. Maybe it was the hardened edge she tried to hide from everyone. Maybe it was the look of loss behind her beautiful eyes. Billy couldn’t wrap his mind around it.

“Pull yourself together man!” He reprimanded himself, “It’s not like she isn’t using you too…”

Billy made his way back to his office when he heard the burner phone chime.

_She took the bait. We’ll be setting up surveillance in her apartment. Find out if she knows anything. If she does, kill her._

Billy’s blood boiled when he read the text. The image of her lying dead and cold on the floor re-emerged and he saw red. He dropped the phone and hurled his desk at the wall with his bare hands.

Secretly he hoped Y/N didn’t know anything. He hoped he wouldn’t be forced to do something that he didn’t want to.


	6. The Devil(s) You Know

You made your way through the busy offices of the Bulletin. The room was buzzing with life. Employees in middle-class dress smarts hovered around from desk to desk. Some had files in hand, others typed away brutally at the clunky, old computer keys. The atmosphere was electric… productive. As a kid, your father had spent many hours dealing with interviews and alike, but always in the comfort and security of his own home. He always liked having the high ground, made reporters feel uneasy in unwelcome spaces. Except for this one reporter, Ben Urich.

You had been barely out of your teen years when you had watched through ajar doors as your Father lost his iron-clad composure after being accused of something malicious by the straight-shooting reporter. You had never seen anyone rattle your Father to that extent. Ben Urich had gained your respect in that moment, and it wasn't until this very moment that you realised just how much you admired him for that. The irony of Karen Page working for the same newspaper as the one reporter you respected did not escape you.

"Can I help you?" asked a balding man with a salt and pepper beard and drooping eyes. He was cleaning his glasses using his tie as he stood like a man of authority next to a door labelled:  'EDITOR' with a name underneath written: 'Mitchel Ellison'.

"Mitchel Ellison, I presume?"

"Just Ellison," he extended his hand once his glasses were fixed back onto his face. You shook it. "Still haven't answered my question." He said plainly.

"Ah, yes sorry. My name is Y/N Y/L/N." He raised a brow at the mention of your last name. He recognised you then.

"Ah, the elusive heiress to Armistice Security," he said knowingly.

You shouldn't have been surprised. Your Father was Carl Kurogawa, CEO and founder of one of the leading military contracting companies. The press loved him and after Henry's death… well, more and more people were digging into your family's history. That's one of the reasons you legally changed your last name to your mother's maiden name.

"Since my Father and I don't share the same last name, I'm inclined to correct you on that front. I have no affiliations with Armistice Security," You said rather harshly.

"If that were true you'd have sold your shares a long time ago," he retorted quickly. No doubt Ellison had a hard time trusting people, but at least he called things as he saw them.

You sighed, "I'm here to see Karen Page. I called earlier about giving her an exclusive."

"What about?"

You smirked, "Sorry, that's privileged information. You'll just have to find out about it in the editorial room." Ellison huffed lazily, you amused him a little.

"Her office is right through there," He pointed down the hall and to the right.

"Thank you." You smiled flatly.

You knocked on the door with a sign covered by masking tape with the name Karen P. written on it. It was obscuring the name of whoever owned this office space before her.

"Just a second," a soft female voice spoke out.

Impatient, as always, you opened the door anyway. Karen was about to speak from behind her laptop screen, but upon seeing you, her face had a confused look plastered on it.

"Who?--" She squinted her eyes trying to remember. She didn't seem to recognise you. Being in a room full of reporters who usually could pick you out in a crowd, this was certainly a refreshing first. A laugh tried to trickle out of you but you held it back and instead chose to introduce yourself.

You held out your hand, "Y/N Y/L/N. We have an appointment today..." Karen still had a hard time placing you, this time you did giggle. "The Rand Enterprise exclusive about expansion in Hong Kong."

And suddenly, like lightning hitting its mark, Karen finally put two and two together.

"Of course, sorry," She returned your handshake. "I've been swamped lately, and as you probably deduced for yourself, I'm a little new at this." She gestured to her desk filled with overflowing, loose paperwork.

"Reporting or an efficient filing system?" you joked. She laughed awkwardly.

"Both," she sat down and gestured to the chair in front of her desk for you to have a seat. "Which is why I am a little apprehensive as to why you chose me to handle such a story. In fact, why the New York Bulletin? Isn't the Hong Kong expansion something a business magazine would kill to get an exclusive on?"

You smirked, "Oh, it is. Which is why I'm not giving the exclusive to a business magazine. Also, I read some of your other stories. You tend to be discrete about who your sources are when they want to keep things hush, hush."

Karen pulled out a notepad and pen, clicking it once to jot down something on her notepad.

"Why the secrecy? It's not like you're reporting on anything the company doesn't want the world to know… right?"

"I'm just… beating a colleague to the punch," You felt proud at the prospect of Ward reading this exclusive in a small newspaper after he had spent months preparing to give this exclusive to the Wall Street Journal. The look on his face when he finds out he doesn't have an exclusive anymore filled you with delight.

"Sounds alarmingly ambiguous."

"It sounds like an exclusive."

Karen took hint of your tone and cleared her throat, "Okay, so what can you tell me about Ward Meachum's new merger deal?"

You crossed your legs and leaned back, but made sure not to look too comfortable. "For starters, I can tell you it's not Ward Meachum's merger. He shook hands and posed for photo ops but they were my contacts and it was my project. I worked in Hong Kong for several years before I returned. Suffice to say, I had the means, Ward had the poster boy look."

Without skipping a beat, Karen jotted down on her notepad in shorthand. You were curious to read what she had written down, but this story wasn't what was important right now. You needed to gain her trust and get her guard down before asking about the incident with General Schoonover.

"Why did you leave Hong Kong?"

"I'm sorry?"

Karen plastered on a genial smile, "You mentioned your posting in the Hong Kong offices as being your primary qualification for spearheading this merger. If you managed to accumulate such good connections, why leave such a promising post? Wasn't accepting the post at Rand a step down?"

Karen was a sly one, this explained why someone with no background in journalism got ahead so quick. She was fishing for two stories in one interview. The Rand scoop and why you were offering her the Rand scoop. You made a mental note not to underestimate her. "This story isn't about me, Miss Page."

"Is it not? You’re not a disgruntled employee as far as I can tell. And giving a small newspaper access to such an exclusive doesn't make much sense unless you're trying to gain all the credit, but that wouldn't exactly help moral at the workplace if they found out you leaked the story. And unless you're Mr Meachum's scorned lover--"

You snorted a little at the insinuation of you being Ward's scorned lover. "You want to know what I get out of this. What my angle is."

"To be frank, yes."

"That's easy Miss Page. An ally at a respectable paper. That's something of great value in my line of work."

"In corporate legalities or military law?"

You smiled. Karen had just given away her ace in the hole. She had done research on you, which meant she knew exactly who you were when you walked into her office. She really was a sly one. "In a competitive corporate world."

You both exchanged a look that carried the fake pleasantry smiles not uncommon with most of your social interactions, but both you and Karen's eyes held a glare that spoke volumes. It was a look of respectful rivalry and cautiousness.

"Look, Miss Page--"

"Karen is fine."

"Okay, Karen. We can spend hours going round in circles, continuing this verbal detente with one another, or you can ask what you really want to ask me and save us both some time."

"It's the same question. Why me? And no bullshit. Why come to me, out of all the other more qualified and respected reporters? Why come all the way down to Hell’s Kitchen?"

"To be honest. My father hates this newspaper. And my boss is an ass. So if I can manage to serve a big ol‘ ' _fuck you_ ' to the both of them, it's a win-win for me." Karen seemed pleased with your answer. "But, there is one other reason."

"Yes?"

"The Punisher."

Karen froze for a second, you noticed her battling for control to remain unreadable.

"Whatever do you mean?" She asked, trying to seem oblivious to what you were implying.

"You are the one who wrote of his demise, did you not? It was quite the… unexpected angle. You framed his narrative to be more sympathetic than most other news outlets."

"I wrote _Frank's_ story. Everyone else had already written about _the Punisher_."

"And weren't you assigned his case when you worked for… Oh, what was their name again? Murdock and Neilson?"

Karen's brows knitted together and she straightened her back to appear slightly taller than you, "Nelson and Murdock." Karen huffed. "And here I thought I was the one conducting the interview here."

Strong-arming Karen was proving to be ineffective. It was time to play a different angle. You sighed and stood from your chair, gathering a file from your purse and presenting it in front of Karen.

"Look, Karen. I'm not here to accuse you of anything. If anything I commend you for writing the real story about Frank Castle. It shows your willingness to bring the truth to light. It's the reason I thought you could help. You worked with him and I know you were at the scene of General Schoonover's murder."

"How?" Her eyes skittered between you and the file.  


"I also know that you've read up on me. You and me have something in common." Karen broke eye contact for a brief moment. "I just want closure. And I think… I think you knew the Punisher better than you let on. And everything that happened, all the people he killed… I think they were part of something bigger. Schoonover, Frank and… my brother’s death." You had to pause to take a breath. "It's all connected. And I've hit a dead end. You're the last thread I can pull. I know you know something. I'm just hoping..."

Karen looked at the file you gave her. It had your brother’s name printed on the yellow jacket. She sighed and slid it back to you. "I don't know anything. I'm sorry."

You smiled with disappointment, sliding the file back to Karen. "I've got more copies. Keep it." You grabbed your bag and headed for the door. "My numbers on the back. In case you suddenly remember something." As you walked out the door, you caught a glimpse of Karen burying her head in her hands and whispering a soft "Fuck" under her breath. That made you smirk slightly. Now you just had to wait and see if she'd call.

Even though you knew full well that you and Karen had kept your voices more than professional, you couldn't help but feel eyes on you as you walked out of the Bulletin's doors. Specifically, the judgmental eyes of Mitchel Ellis.

***

When you got into your car, you finally let the tough as nails act slide away and suddenly you felt limp. You closed your eyes and looked up at the car's roof feeling particularly aimless. As the seconds turned to minutes, your mind kept trying to make sense of all the puzzle pieces that didn't fit together in your investigation. Then, your phone chimed from inside your pocket. You half expected it to be Cecil and the other half… well, you reprimanded yourself for wishing it was Billy. What you didn’t expect to find was an email from Ward. Not just any email, a letter of notice.  


He was firing you.  


Over a fucking email.  


The damn merger story hadn't even been put to print yet, even if it had, your name would remain anonymous. Which leaves the very probable reason for your contract termination being the result of a hurt ego and rejected advances.

"Asshole!" You swore. Rage bubbling to the surface, you typed away at your phone and sent a message you knew you'd come to regret, but your anger had gotten the best of you.

"Karen. About keeping my name anonymous, don't bother." You hit send and without missing a beat, you dialled Cecil's number. If Ward wanted to play dirty, you had no problem playing it his way.

"Heyyo," Cecil answered in a drowsy tone.

"Hey, I need a big favour."

***

You stormed your way up to Ward's office, ignoring the protests of his assistant clomping after you in heels she wasn't comfortable running in.

"Ma'am!" She whisper-shouted frantically after you as you burst into his office. Ward had turned to you with a shocked expression mid-sentence. A room full of important busy-bodies craning their necks to look at who cause this disturbance. Ward glared at you menacingly and then eyed his assistant who swallowed loudly. "I'm sorry Mr Meachum. I tried to stop her."

"That's quite alright. We're just finished in here," Ward buttoned his three-piece suit-jacket and motioned for the men to exit the room. A fake smile tugging at his lips. When you were finally alone, Ward closed the door behind him before walking over to his desk. He leaned his tall frame against it languidly. When he didn't speak, you did.

"A fucking text, Ward? You don't have the balls to fire me yourself, you had your assistant type up the fucking thing?" You tried to keep a handle on your temper. "What was the reason? Please tell me there's a better reason than your hurt pride!"

Ward gave you a cheeky smile, enjoying your anger a bit too much. "Well, you mean despite you showing up late to the meeting the other day, then feeding me some bullshit excuse of traffic being the reason you were late? And don't even get me started on all the other times you've put off work hours to do God knows what!"

"You're firing me for tardiness? I'm the one who spearheaded this expansion project in the first place. Without me-"

"I'm firing you for unprofessional conduct. You can do whatever you please after office hours, but social calls the same day you're late to the closure of the project you were in charge of? That's unacceptable."

"So this _is_ about your dumb fucking ego!"

Ward's eye twitched and you could all but see his professional disguise begin to crack, "I expect you to remove yourself from the premises immediately before I call security. You can collect your things from rece-"

Before Ward could finish his threat, you took out your phone and pressed send on a video file. In an instant, Ward's phone chimed from his desk. He glanced over at it and saw your name on the email.

"The fuck is this?" Ward asked, an eyebrow arched.

"This is me choosing to stoop to your level, Ward." Your words were saturated in disgust.

"Is this a threat?" He gawked at you, completely surprised.

"Open it and find out."

Ward did as you suggested and his face went pale. The video showed him rifling through his desk drawer and pulling out a small tin, before proceeding to empty it of its contents and snort the white powder that came from it.

"I think that camera angle suits you. Does those cheekbones of yours the justice they deserve." You held up your own phone which played the same video.

"You bitch!" Ward snarled.

You took a step back and held up a single finger, "I'd be very careful about what you do next, Ward. One press of a button and I send this video to a very respectful reporter whom I was just in talks with a few hours ago. Then the whole world will know that the respectable and business savvy, Ward Meachum has a coke problem."

He clenched his fists till they went white, "How the fuck did you get your hands on that? Are you spying on me now?"

You laughed, "I have better things to do, Ward. But don't forget, I'm great at making connections. And this is a video from _your_ security cameras in _your_ office. I just know a guy who's good with computers."

"What do you want," Ward's words came out hesitantly.

"My job back for starters. I've worked too hard for someone like you to get in the way of it. Shouldn't be too hard to do, I'm guessing you hadn't consulted anyone about it. We can just keep your email between you, me and your lovely assistant."

Ward folded his arms and took a tentative step forward. He was trying to reassert his position of power, but you didn't budge. "And how do I know you aren't bluffing? I have a PR department available around the clock. We can spin this video however we want."

"Read tomorrows paper," you said snidely. "And once you realise I'm not bluffing. Add a raise while you’re at it." You added before walking out of his office. Adrenaline soaked your muscles and you felt powerful. As the door closed behind you, you heard a crash coming from Ward's office. His assistant looked at you with wide-eyes.

"Might want to hold off Mr Meachum's appointments for the day. Something tells me he won’t be in a very cooperative mood today." You winked at the assistant and rode the elevator to the carpark.

***

As you walked to your car, your phone rang. You sighed and rolled your eyes. "Jesus, I can't catch a break today." When you saw the caller ID you were pleasantly surprised. "Mom?"

"Honey, hey! I was worried I wouldn't get a hold of you, busy schedule of yours and all that," she rambled quickly in that shaky tone that had become her new default in the last couple of years. "I- Uh…"

Your heart began to race with worry, "Is everything okay?" You interjected.

"What? Oh, oh, yes! Everything's fine. Why wouldn't it be? I'm calling because there's something important I have to… Umm. Why don't you come home for a bit and I'll explain everything."

"Mom, what is this about?"

"See you soon," she said hurriedly, cutting the line straight after.

"What?" You stood dumbfounded and slightly worried. You made your way to your car at a jogging pace and set off for the family mansion.  

When you arrived, you were surprised to find a car parked by the driveway. You didn't pay it much attention, you were more preoccupied with finding out what that weird phone call was about. You rang the doorbell and the house butler answered the door. He seemed baffled to see you. To be fair, you were surprised you hadn't talked yourself out of driving through that accursed gate brandished with your father’s initials.

"Weathermire." You greeted him professionally.

"Miss Y/N. It's been a long time. I last saw you at the--"

"Gala. My mother called me. Do you know where she is?"

"The kitchen I believe, miss."

"Thank you," you made your way through the grand opulent mansion with familiarity.

"Would you like me to inform your Father-"

"No," you said almost instantly. "It’s better he doesn't know."

When you got to the kitchen, you were greeted by the image of your mother and several cook staff preparing food.

"Oh, Darling. You got here quicker than I expected," your mother said gleefully. She walked over to hug you, wiping her wet hands on her apron. She looked elegant as usual. Weathermire entered the kitchen just then and with a simple glance, she instructed him to go off and do something. He complied with a simple bow.

"Mom, what's all this? When you called, I thought…" You didn't know what to say, you honestly didn't know what to make of her phone call. You shook your head. "Why did you call me here?"

"Oh, well I figured we could have a little family dinner. I have been sat at an empty table for weeks now. Your father always has his meetings, you always have yours. I figured today there would be no excuses for you to be antagonistic towards each other."

You snorted, "Whatever brought that idea on?"

Just as your words escaped your mouth, Weathermire opened the doors to your father's study and your father and his guest stepped into the kitchen. Everyone's expression -except for your mother's- was that of being caught unawares.

"Billy?" You asked in shock. But as soon as you said his name, you regretted it.

"Do you two know each other?" Your father asked with a stiff tone.

You shot Billy a look you hoped mirrored ' _Don't tell them about us_ '.

Billy, like the chameleon he was, flawlessly kept his composure and replied, "Yes, we had the pleasure of meeting at your Gala a few weeks ago." He smiled at your parents dashingly.

"You never told me you knew my daughter," Your father said.

"Your daughter?" Billy pretended to be caught off-guard. Now it was Billy's turn to shoot you a knowing look, "It never came up."

"We only talked for a brief moment. There wasn't any polite way to bring up my parentage to a complete stranger." You said through gritted teeth.

Your fathers eyes squinted in your direction and your mother cleared her throat, "Come now, we can all get to know each other better over some food."

Billy and you simultaneously tried to object but your mother interrupted, "Hush, you're both staying for dinner and that's the end of it."

You put on a painful grin. Something in Billy's expression found this whole exchange humorous.

"You two go set up the table, we'll be right over." You mother ushered them out of the kitchen.

You sighed when it was just you and your mother in the room. "How long have you known?" You asked her, not even bothering to deny you were more than acquainted with Billy.

"Since I saw the two of you leaving the Gala together." She had a smile on that showed she was proud of her meddling. "When he came over to discuss business with your father… well, I couldn't pass up the opportunity to have a reason for the both of you to be civilised and enjoy a meal with your mother while she got to know this very nice man I've heard nothing about, by the way."

"There's nothing to say. We went out for drinks once."

Your mother eyed you for a moment, not believing you for a second.

"Okay, maybe twice. But he's not--"

"I'm not what?" Billy asked.


	7. Sovereignty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _-y’all deserve it extra long!_ **|** **Warning:** NSFW, like.. **N.S.F.W!!** family dinner tensions... eh?  
> Billy is a treat to write for, I almost forgot how much!  
>  **A/N:** This update took a while. Fucking finally right!?  
>  **Song:** [_Become the Beast_](https://open.spotify.com/track/26QObSroAPwX83dXVeg1yI?si=HsiGxwv0Rg2tUNAIHJyGyg) by Karliene  
> 

**~**

_"Okay, maybe twice. But he's not--"_

_"I'm not what?" Billy asked with a bemused tone in his voice. He wasn't even trying to hide that devilish smirk of his._

You looked at your mother hoping she'd provide some back-up, but she just winked like the devious minx she was before leaving the two of you alone in the kitchen. You looked up at the ceiling and swore under your breath. You didn't need this kind of stress right now and you didn't appreciate her meddling habits.

"Lord, give me strength," you huffed.

Billy chuckled low, you could almost imagine the feel of those delicious vibrations travelling across his chest. You hated yourself for immediately picturing him shirtless and beneath you...

"Didn't peg you for the religious type," Billy's voice broke your train of thought, thankfully.

"I’m not." You said bluntly.

"I've gotta admit," he leaned his muscular frame against the counter. "This was the last place I ever imagined I'd run into you today… And I have quite the imagination." There was a sultry edge to his words. Those dark eyes of his scanning over your body with a curious glint to their untempered heat.

You enjoyed having him look at you that way, it filled you with drunken power knowing there was that much desire underneath his intense gaze, but you couldn't help but wonder if that all it was between you two. Just unashamed, intense, raw passion. And would it bother you if it was?

Your eyes wandered to the window, your mind trying to make sense of what you had stumbled into when you arrived.

Billy shifted, noticing you weren't in the mood for a flirtatious exchange. He was about to say something when you interjected.

"What are you doing?"

His head cocked to the side, "What do you mean?"

"I mean, here. In my Father’s house." you looked at him with a cold ferocity, it was a stare you had perfected during your time as a prosecutor.

You were grilling him for information and he knew it.

Billy held up his hands, noticing your aggressive stance. "Pure coincidence, _sweetheart_. I'm here on Anvil business. Your father is a military contractor. We have similar interests." He offered up a warm smile.

You paused, mulling his words over. In all the confusion of trying to figure out whether Billy was involved with the drug scandal or not, and combined with the fact the two of you were sleeping together, you were beginning to lose your bearings. And now that you knew you were being monitored by someone in the CIA, things were getting way out of control.

You didn't realise just how much you had been dangling by a thread the last couple of days until right this moment. Once you took a breath, you felt your muscles uncoil. Perhaps this simply was a coincidence. Your father was a highly respected military contractor, Armistice Global was… well, global.

"Right, Anvil. Sorry, it's been a long day. First Ward and then my Mother not being the most subtle in her efforts to get me here… I'm just a little on edge."

Billy's jaw clenched at the mention of Ward's name. "Did that asshole do something?" His voice was calm but the look in his eyes was cold. A brief shockwave of fear spread through you. You'd forgotten how easy it was for Billy to seem charming one moment and then be able to turn your blood cold the next.

"N-no. It was nothing I couldn't handle."

He relaxed, jumping right back into his charming persona.

"So, what type of business does the CEO of Anvil have that was so important that the mighty Carl Kurogawa would invite you into his home?" You hooked a brow up.

Billy took two steps closer to you, his face a few inches away, "I'm afraid that's the _'If I told you, I’d have to kill you'_ type of business." Goosebumps spread across your arms and you almost, almost, believed him. Then his face lit up and he let off a soft laugh. "I'm only joking. It's just boring contracting pitches. If Anvil can get an endorsement from Carl Kurogawa himself, it certainly wouldn't hurt business."

"I guess not," you started counting the squares of tile in the room, forcing that fear away through distraction.

"Something's different about you," He mulled over, finger tapping on his tempting lips. "What happened to the girl who took back shots like they were water and is a well-known regular at some vet frequented bar in the ass ends of town?"

You laughed, "A persona can be multifaceted, Russo."

He closed in on you, fingers lifting your chin, his skin on yours was like a match to kerosene, "Didn't I tell you to call me Billy?"

Feeling particularly playful, you pouted, "It must be frustrating."

“What?”

You licked your lips, “Knowing there’s someone out there not so eager to play your games.”

Just then, Weathermire announced his presence in the room by clearing his throat, Billy bit down in disappointment and you exhaled, though you weren’t sure if you were relieved or just as exasperated as him.

"Dinner is served."

 

Knives scraped against fine chine delicately, the sound of silent eating filling the overly large and grand dining area. Your father sat at the head of the table, followed by your mother and then you. Billy sat opposite, his fine suite blending in well with the decor, but his ramrod-straight posture made him seem more like the outsider he was. You spent most of dinner moving your peas about while the men talked shop and your mother feigned interest.

"Kabul incident last year, that was your men wasn't it?" You father's accent still in possession of its Japanese upbringing.

"That's right."

"Hmm, sloppy work but I suppose we all need a hammer to get things done from time to time."

"With all due respect, there weren't many good alternatives. My men did what their training prepared them for."

"And that's why half the world knows about it."

"Well, Anvil is all about accountability, not deniability."

Carl grumbled as he took a sip from his whiskey, Billy returned a sly smirk his way. It was unsettling how alike their stubborn personalities were.

"Perhaps that's the reason Anvil hasn’t branched out _globally_ yet." Your father stressed the word globally like a gloat worthy boast.

You rolled your eyes and your mother nudged you subtly with her elbow, though Billy had been quick to pick up on your movement. He winked conspiratorially at you when your father's attention returned to his whiskey glass and your mother beamed a giddy smile at your exchange, wiggling in her seat with excitement.

"You're right about that. Luckily, I don't have any plans for expansion just yet. I'm primarily focused on growing my brand. Establishing a place of work for the men and women no longer in service who've only ever known one thing."

You father chuckled, "What, how to kill?"

Billy narrowed his eyes, "How to serve."

"Semantics."

"I never killed anyone," you chimed in, staring at your father, his smile pressed into a grim line.

"Y/N," your mother whispered, trying to get you to back down.

Your father eyed you, "What?"

"Semantics means the two terms are synonymous, interchangeable. I served and yet I never killed anyone."

"You were a glorified civil servant wasting a million dollar law degree playing detective in a war zone," your father spat out distastefully. "Don't delude yourself."

"I'm the delusional one?" You dropped your fork and the clattering sound echoed.

Your mother's fingers wrapped around your white-knuckled fist below the table. Suddenly you felt your breathing normalise. You sighed and took a sip from your mother's wine glass.

After an awkward stretch of silence, your mother's sonorous voice brightened the mood somewhat, "So, darling, how's work?"

"It's fine."

"Oh, don't be modest. I read about your merger with Hong Kong. That Ward fellow sure does have good business acumen. The Wallstreet journal wrote the most glowing piece on him, apparently there’s going to be a tell-all piece in the next issue.”

You held back the urge to grin when she said that.

“Must be nice to work under someone so driven." You mother smiled but both men at the table scoffed into their whiskey glasses, Billy's held more disdain to it.

"Oh, do you know Ward?" Your mother asked him.

"We've met," he said through a clenched jaw. "He's… an acquired taste I'll give you that."

"Is that how the two of you met?" Your father pointed a finger between the two of you.

"They met at the gala dear," your mother's fingers rubbed his shoulder affectionately.

"Then how'd you meet her boss?" He stared at Billy.

"Work lunch," he lied on the spot, not needing a second to gather his thoughts. "Y/N told me she worked in corporate law at Rand. I had a contract I wanted her to overlook -just so I knew I was getting the best possible deal- and I went over to her office to drop it off. That's where I met Ward."

Your mouth gaped open for a second before you closed it by stealing another sip of wine.

You father was inclined to believe Billy, though he wasn't happy about it.

"Contracts are a mess of red tape and bullshit politics, that's where they get you, you know," he pointed his steak knife at Billy. "The fine print. Thank god for lawyers in the private sector's payroll. Without them, I'd be knee-deep in paperwork." Your father nibbled on a piece of stake. "You should be glad a company like Rand took you on after your fiasco in Juarez, Y/N."

That was the final straw, "Oh being a military prosecutor is a big fat joke to you, but working for a slimy asshole who’s one bad day away from a sexual harassment lawsuit is something to be thankful for? Why? Just because the pay is better? Because I wear thousand dollar suits and not a uniform?"

"Don't start this," he warned.

You shook your head, tongue running over the ridges of your teeth. "I'm just trading casual conversion."

Your father slammed his fist on the table and your mother jumped when the plates shook, "You know damn well what you're doing, Y/N!"

"Stop it, both of you!" Your mother threw her napkin on her plate, an angry flush on her cheeks. "One meal. We can't sit down for one measly meal?" She blinked in quick succession, voice weak and wavering. "Ever since Henry-" her jaw tightened. "I can't take much more of this. It's like trying to navigate a minefield with the two of you! You're both grown adults, you have no excuse for such antagonistic behaviour to one another. This is supposed to be a family for Christ's sake!" She stood from the table abruptly, her wine glass knocked over and staining the white table cloth red. “Billy, it was nice meeting you.”

“My pleasure Ma’am.”

"Mom! Wait..." You rose to follow after her when your phone started ringing.

You father threw his napkin on his plate as he pushed his chair back, "Billy I think it's time we cut this dinner short. Y/N stay here, you've done enough damage!"

You ogled him with pure seething hatred darkening your irises, "I've done enough da-"

Billy stood from the table too, giving you a look that told you to stand down as he interjected your scalding rebuttal, "Y/N why don't you show me out?"

Your head snapped to stare at him, teeth grinding, "You know where the fucking door is!"

Billy cocked his head at you, his lips parted in a mixture of surprise and delight, obviously, something in your tone enticed him. You bunched your hands into fists as you stormed out of the room, glancing at the caller ID and sighing when you read the name.

"Yes?" you answered harshly, breath permeating with the cold air, forming a white cloud around your face, the vein on your temple pulsating.

"Uh… Y/N?" Karen's familiar lilt sounded startled.

"Sorry," you cleared your throat. "Hi, Karen, what is it?"

"I read the file. I understand and I want to help. You deserve closure."

 _Closure?_ You tugged your hair back with a rough thrust of your fingers. _What the hell does that mean?_

"Name a place and a time."

Billy descended the mansions steps, hands fitting into tight leather gloves, his dark coat making him blend into the darkness like a wraith.

"I know just the place. I'll text you the address."

Without saying anything further, you hung up abruptly when he got in earshot. He smirked at you, his hand finding its way to the small of your back, the crisp air filling with the scent of that cologne that made your body react on instinct. You chewed the inside of your mouth, using the pain as an anchor to keep your wits about you.

"I know of a great way you can work off that anger..." his eyes skimming over your body. “Put all that pent up aggression to use."

You shoved his hand away, "Go find someone else to be your fuck buddy, Russo. I'm not in the mood to be your plaything."

Billy chuckled, motioning to kiss you goodbye on the cheek. You shifted your head further away from his advancing lips, the idea of his scruff scraping your skin making you ache for that burn to rub against another sensitive spot on your skin.

"Oh darling, I don't play." His words were a promise… a threatening promise.

Billy's shoulder brushed yours as he made his way to his expensive nero sleek sports car, a swagger to his long strides that emphasised his strong, shapely shoulders making them look even stronger, more powerful.

You bit your lip and cursed at the moon with your middle finger held up at Billy so he'd see it in his rear view mirror. His car honked twice as he gave you a nonchalant wave.

 ***

You paced about in the dark alley behind Fogwell's Gym, waiting by the single source of light coming from a red neon sign under the fire exit, your skin itching with frustration.

"Y/N?" Karen called out and you jumped.

"Fuck!" You held your chest before heaving a sigh. "Jesus, Karen! What took you so long?"

She walked out of the shadows, a strange sensation of another pair of eyes watching you made your neck to stiffen. You looked up at the scaffolding but there was nothing but mayoral candidate posters from last season, still stuck to the construction planks, edges flittering like a flightless bird,.

"I had to make sure you weren't followed."

You huffed "My father is the CEO of a military contracting company and I went through three years of intense military drills. I know how to shake a tail."

Karen was taken aback by your blunt tone, her eyes searching your face. "Hey, are you okay?"

"What are you, my therapist?"

"If you're going to be a bitch, at least let me give you this before I change my mind," she pulled out a folder from her bag. You accepted it with frosty fingers. "This is everything I know about Schoonover, Frank Castle and the Blacksmith."

You frowned at her as you skimmed the pages, "Why the hell didn't this go to print?"

"Because... someone tried to be the whistle-blower before."

"And?"

"Turn to L for Lieberman."

You filliped the file to the section marked 'L'. "Shit. So that's it?"

"Unless someone finds a way to go after a ghost, there are no more threads to pull. All the loose ends are… well, dead."

You slammed your fist into the wall, sucking in air as pain shot through your bleeding knuckles.

Karen sighed, her hands digging in her purse for something else. "Here, you look like you could use it-" she handed you a cigarette.

"I don't smoke," you replied through gritted teeth.

"Seems like, the day you're having, now’s as good a day to start." She lit herself one, lipstick staining the filter, the whistle of air being sucked into her lungs travelled to your ears and the satisfied look on her face when she took in that first drag made you itch for something different but equally adictive. There was only one time you had that look on your face and it was always in the proximity of Billy Russo.

"Fuck," you held out two fingers. "Maybe you're right."

You and Karen stood there, in the glow of the red neon signpost, darkness forming an impregnable perimeter around you as the air filled with the choking scent of tar and nicotine. The burning feeling in your lungs chasing away the burn between your legs and the burn in your brain.

"Fucking waste," you spat as you stared down at the file, tempted to take that disgusting cigarette that dried out your saliva and chapped your lips and use it to burn a hole through the file.

"You were right," Karen put out her cigarette with her heel. "We do have something in common, but it's not what you originally thought."

"No?" you laughed bitterly, knowing full well she was referring to the fact you both lost a brother.

"No."

You threw the still-lit cigarette at the wall, the embers still burning. "What is?"

" _Moratorium_ ," she whispered like it was an inside joke. "It's the emptiness they left behind."

You chipped the dried blood from your split knuckles, breaking the mesh that had formed a scab, forcing blood to pool out again in bright rivulets. You were almost tempted to lick it. To let the disgusting nickel taste bombard your senses and remind you of what dread tasted like. Instead, you rubbed the droplet away, smearing it across your fingers like a type of primeval knuckle duster, a proverbial weapon for your very real, very savage demons.

That spiral into the black ichor of all-consuming depression that leeched at your lifeblood forced bile to erupt in your stomach and tunnel up to your uvula. You took in a swallow of cold air, letting it ice your nostrils and freeze your insides so they matched your despondent state of mind.

"Moratorium _,_ huh?" you reiterated darkly. "I guess we're all just broken people clinging to old ideals, setting ourselves up for failure. Closure is a luxury, not a right. And I'm tired of being denied my rights!"

"What are you going to do about it?"

You looked up at the scaffolding again, up into the patch of darkness that seemed darker than the rest. "For starters, I'm going to get drunk."

"Sounds like my regular Friday," Karen disappeared into the night and so did you. That damn file burning like hot coals in your grip.

 

You stood at Billy’s door, bruised knuckles inches from the varnished wood. There were so many other things you should have been doing like telling Cecil your mission for justice had tail-spun into a pathetic joke, starting with an exhumation and ending with you reading a file compiled together by a second-rate reporter in a dark alley where you learned the truth –that Schoonover was the Blacksmith and that his death left behind an empty vacuum of unanswered questions and snipped threads you couldn’t pull.

Billy was the last link. The dot that needed to be connected to the CIA, but could it? Could you take on the CIA? Was it even worth the risk at this point if the Blacksmith had already been brought to justice, made to pay for his sins, moths ago?

You couldn’t answer these questions and right now, you were in no state to even attempt to. You needed to escape this feeling of helplessness, of drowning in your own pitiful sorrows. And the man behind this door was the only one who could make it all go away, if only for a minute.

If only…

You waited tentatively for Billy to answer the door once your sore knuckles battered against the heavy door frame. His muffled footsteps slipped through the crack and his hand turned the doorknob painfully slowly. When he pulled it open, you were greeted by a half-naked Billy holding a tactical knife behind his back.

“Jesus, Y/N, do you know what time it is?”

“Yes. And I don’t care.”

Billy placed his knife on the end table and pulled the doors wider when he saw your despondent expression.

“Are you oka-“

You grabbed his face and pulled him into a hungry, invasive kiss, your tongue running across his teeth and his cheek, the taste of whiskey mixing with the _pinot noir_ you had demolished before taking the elevator up to his penthouse. “Shut up and fuck me!”

A devious smile crept over his face as his foot slammed his door shut, “Yes Ma’am!” He heaved you off your feet and you wrapped your hands around his waist.

Billy placed you on top of his sheets, the smell of whiskey on his breath sending a hot sensation from your nose to your lungs to your core. He hooked his long, slender fingers onto the waist of your panties and began to pry them off you nice and slow, making you ache even more. His movements teasing. You mewled under his touch as Billy let out sinister laughs of dominance, placing wet kisses on your stomach and naval and hip bone. His scruff trailing a hot path in between your legs just as you had yearned for.

"Fuck! Yes," you whimpered, your cheeks and breasts flush, blood rushing to your core causing it to twitch from anticipation. "Ah!"

Billy looked up at you through heavy, lust-filled eyes and a shiver spread throughout your body, he felt you quake under his touch, under his gaze, under his dominance. As much as you wanted him to just take you there and then like the first time you had fucked each other, you knew he wasn't going to. Something told you he wasn't planning on rushing things this time. Not after he saw your tender flesh on your knuckles and a furrow forced his eyebrows together.

He could sense what you were after, he could tell the injury was self-inflicted and after that disastrous dinner earlier, you could tell he wasn’t going to let you use him as a gloried narcotic. At least, not in the urgent, rough way you wanted. He was going to make you feel. You needed release but not from your sexual desire, you needed release from the chaos brewing inside you and the only way to do that was to make you submit to his will, let _him_ take the reins.

He slid your panties to your knees and left them there, "Spread your legs," he ordered.

Without hesitation or an ounce of rebellion, you did as he commanded, and as you felt the sweet sensation of some of the tightening tension between your legs being relieved by the spread. When you tried to alleviate the tightness some more, you were painfully reminded of the little wiggle room you had since your legs were prevented from spreading further by your lace panties. You grimaced in disappointment by your libido caught on fire.

Billy smirked, crashing his lips to yours in hunger. His tongue swirling around in your mouth, his taste heavenly. He deepened the kiss, the ferocity of it nearly split your bottom lip with his canines. He let out a moan when you, in turn, pulled at his bottom lip in sweet revenge. You let out a breathy laugh of satisfaction. At least now you knew your touch had the same effect on him as his had on you.

Feeling bold you brought you hand to his boxers, your long digit tracing the length of his hard erection, "Hnngg… Y/N!" Billy moaned against your neck, suckling on the flesh until you were sure it would leave marks. The more you played with him the harder the kisses became, his stubble no longer tickling but leaving red burn marks in their wake. He was trying to make you give in, to subject you to his will, and as much as that prospect delighted you, the rebel in you had other ideas.

"Fuck!" Billy gasped in surprise.

You began to palm his erection, increasing the friction. He fought to keep his hips from digging in deeper, increasing the pleasure your hand brought him. He was failing. He removed his face from the crook of your neck only to be greeted by your power-hungry eyes. He wasn't going to let you ride this high alone, he too wanted to feel the power of someone shamelessly revelling in sexual pleasure. Billy used his rough calloused hands to pinch one of your erect nipples.

"Hnggg, Oh- Oh, God, Billy!" You cried out.

Billy hunkered lower, replacing his hands with his teeth and tongue. He rolled your taut nipple around with his tongue, interchanging between biting and suckling now and again. His other hand sought after your untouched nipple and pinched it hard.

 

"Ahh!" He solicited another cry from you.

Dissatisfied that only one of you was moaning without holding themselves back, your hand, which was still palming his erection, slipped under his boxers and began tightened its grip around his length.

You began working him in slow, languid strokes, milking him of every whimper and moan you could get and then you picked up the pace and tightened your grip, even more. He muffled his loudest moan yet by laying a new love bite on your collar. His hips began to move faster, deeper, harder. He wanted you, badly. You could tell because you wanted him as well, you felt your juices begin to seep out of your molten core, this slow torture had a plus side, every small little twitch and contraction felt a hundred times more magnified as your clit throbbed like an epileptic drummer.

"Billy, I need you inside me… Ah- Ah- Now!" You demanded as he worked your breasts. His throaty laugh vibrating around your swollen breasts.

"Not yet, babe. Not, yet." He yanked your hand away from his throbbing cock and grabbed a tie he had discarded by the nightstand, then he grabbed your other hand and tied them to the headboard. *Fuck! You swore internally, your excitement growing deeper. He thought he could win this by tying you down? *Think again Billy Russo.

A devilish smile appeared over your glistening lips and you used your hips to push yourself off the bed and grind your exposed, drenched core against his equally yearning member. Billy grabbed your hips harshly, it was a sensually rough grip, and you felt his cock twitch upwards to greet your pink folds, both of you enjoying the feel of the other against their arousal. But then Billy abruptly slammed your hips back onto the bed, severing the contact.

"Someone's being naughty," he chastised, "What shall we do about that?" the question was rhetorical, you knew he had something lewd brewing in his mind.

Billy shimmied down, moving passed your breasts, naval, hips. His fingers tracing each part of you in a ghostly manner, you had to bite your lip to keep from making a sound. He lifted your knees again, you panties still refraining you from splaying out further. He used one long finger to skim the barrier of your moist semi-parted folds. You whimpered.

He did this over and over and over until his own finger was coated in your thick juices. He brought that same finger to his mouth and licked it clean while maintaining eye contact. When he was done he repeated the same motions, only with two fingers this time. Your hips lifted higher of their own accord, you wanted him inside you. You needed him inside you.

"Tell me what you want me to do to you," his voice was dark and heavily lilted.

"I want you inside me. I want you to make me cum. I need you, Billy Russo, now!" you urged

Complying with your request, Billy plunged his two fingers into you and began to drive then in and out at an insane pace. Rough, sensual and fast, his fingers curled every time they plunged into you, a wet noise filling the room, the smell of sex saturating the room.

Your breaths heady and smelling of spice and whiskey. Your hands wanted to fist his hair but all they could do was claw at the silk tie as you held on for dear life.

"Ahh- Ah! Uhh… Yes, Billy! Yes, don't stop!" You pleaded. And rather than slow down or speed up his pace, Billy lowered his face and used his tongue to brush against the sensitive bundle of nerves above your twitching pussy.

Your hips bucked and you gasped. God that felt amazing. The slight warm burn from his alcohol-laced tongue and the odd cooling effect it had as soon as he blew air on your clit made you clench your eyes and scream. And then he placed his whole mouth over your clit and sucked on it, hard. You felt yourself unravelling under his skilled tongue and fingers. The knot in your stomach tightening further and further the more he pleasured you.

"Billy, I- I'm gonna- Uh! I'm coming!" You cried out as you reached your climax, cum coating his fingers. He licked them clean a second time and ripped your panties away entirely this time. He brought you back from the brink of ecstasy by nudging your folds open with his tongue. He lapped at your folds, the burn of whiskey intensifying the sensations. You felt like you were about to shatter under him.

"God, I can't wait any longer. I need to feel you around me," with that he plunged his enlarged cock deep inside you and your eyes rolled back as white spots filled your vision. He stretched you, even more than he had the first time you had sex, if that was even possible, and he began to ride you hard and fast. He kept his brutal pace until his breathing became laboured and his moans escaped freely.

"Y/N. I'm coming! Come with me!" He demanded as his hips sputtered and the violent crashing of your sweat glistened bodies quickened. When he came, he filled you with his warm, thick semen, making you feel full and satisfied. You lay there for a while, trying to regain your senses. The room smelling even more of sex and sweat.

When Billy had come down from his high, he untied your hands, pulled out of you and collapsed beside you. You felt his cum spill out of your sensitive, raw pussy.

Billy placed his ear strategically under your left breast so he could hear your thunderous heartbeat. You stroked his hair and took in his scent.

“You really don’t play…” you breathed out through shaky vocals.

“Mmm…”

Before long the two of you had fallen asleep in each other’s arms, muscles fatigued and desires beyond sated. That damn file finally forgotten.

The next morning the two of you showered together and ended up to going a second round where he drilled into you from behind while you let the cool tiles rub deliciously against your taut nipples and swollen bud.

***

**Author's Note:**

> Don't be afraid to comment or leave feedback. In fact, it's encouraged!


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